Home
by AineMorrigan
Summary: How does one fit back into the land of the living, after eight years spent completely alone? She's back with her parents, but the real story has only started. Sequel to [The Road Home] [HouseCamOC] COMPLETE
1. Transition: Allie

**An:** I finally managed to get the first chapter re-write done! Going back to my old style this time...much easier to write. Updates will come as the school schedule permits and as I figure out where I want to take this story. I'm hoping to find a way to take this so it's more House/Cam centered this time. Maybe the show will inspire me for some of those moments...and maybe I'll get my dream of a nice Cameron/House raunchy...nevermind. ANYWAY, here's chapter one - enjoy. Oh, and as usual - I love constructive criticism. Have at me on my spelling, grammar or anything in particular you don't like...or want to see.

Home: Transition

_"I've been home for a little bit over a month and things have just been really weird. How many people get the chance in their lifetime to completely start over? I suppose that's the gift I've been given, but it really doesn't feel like it. Mom and dad try their best to keep things normal around here - but I can tell the overprotective nature is slowly but surely creeping in. Just the other day I had stepped out into the backyard and mom completely freaked out...she thought I'd dissappeared. I shouldn't blame them, I really shouldn't. They're going through this transition too...I can't even imagine what life was like for them the years I was gone. I'd like to tell them everything that's happened during the past eight years, I really would - but I don't know if I want to put them through that. Would I even be able to tell them? I know they're my parents, but we're basically strangers. _

_Yesterday was the day I was suppose to go back to school. I told her that I was fine with going back - I really should have told her the truth. I wasn't ready...I wasn't sure matter of fact, if I ever would be. Anyway, she dropped me off that morning as she and dad headed to the hospital and from the second I got there I knew I was going to have trouble. I'm still on crutches from the accident and was worried the entire time there, on how i'd manage a full day at school without tripping all over the place. I realized as we pulled up to the school, that it was going to be the least of my worries. News trucked littered the front entrance - all of them waiting for their "story." How they even found out that I was returning back to school was beyond me...but I was completely pissed that they showed up at all. I guess Uncle Jimmy was right - until I spoke out about this whole thing I was going to remain part of their morbid curiosity. _

_How do I tell someone that above everything else that's going on right now - I still harbor dark thoughts about everything. How do I tell them that more nights than none, I sit awake feeling sorry for myself...looking at where life's taken me - and just wish that David really had killed me that day. I was alright the days in the hospital following the accident. I was alright when we first came home...but now I'd settled into a deep depression. A depression that I share alone. A depression that I don't even understand myself, half of the time." -A.H._

* * *

I stopped writing for a few seconds and looked at what I'd just scribbled down on the first page of the journal mom had given me for Christmas. How pathetic was I? I sounded just like one of those emo teenagers that Dad is always thanking me for not being. I grabbed the corner of the page and ripped until it dislocated itself from the binding of the book. I crumpled it into a wad and tossed it into the trashcan underneath my desk. Tears welled up in my eyes momentarily and I just threw the damn journal across the room, watching as it hit the wall and fell to the ground with a sickening thud. I hoped that no one had heard it - the last thing I needed was either of them coming upstairs for another round of "let's make Allie feel better". Mom would just come upstairs like she has for the past six weeks and tell me she would be here when I needed to talk, and Dad would tell me he'd arrange for Chase to be my personal punching bag if I wanted to let out some anger. What was the point? (Dad looked slightly dissappointed that I'd not taken him up on his offer)

Mom had given me the stupid thing yesterday, telling me that since I'd been so quiet about everything lately...she hoped I'd be able to write down what I was thinking - that it helped. I looked warily at her and asked what I could possibly have to write about?

"Oh you know, you're starting school today! You're going to make new friends...you could write about that, or whatever comes across your mind," she'd said...a little too cheerful for anybody at 7'o clock in the morning.

School. Ugh. Just thinking about how yesterday went is enough to make me want to go find another black SUV and throw myself in front of it. No, I am not being dramatic, it really WAS that bad. Mom and Dad insisted that they enroll me at some prestigious private school here in Princeton. It was a couple blocks away from the hospital, so I'd be able to walk there easily after class and catch a ride home with one of them. Not knowing any better...I'd decided to act like I was all for the plan. I'd been lugged into the school, given an assessment test, received my acceptance letters and was fitted with a geeky private school uniform. Dad looked at me, feeling totally out of place in a pleated skirt and tie, and laughed. He laughed even harder when they gave me a black blazer with the school logo on it. He had to leave the room when the administration lady told me the chucks, studded belt and jeans I'd worn to the uniform fitting would be totally unacceptable for this institution (girls here do not dress like "little punk rockers" was her exact phrase),he was laughing so hard. I knew he'd have a field day as soon as he saw that stupid getup. I guess some habits never die...even if you get married and have a kid - you're still allowed to laugh at everyone.

The stupid news trucks were there that morning. I hobbled into school on my crutches (I still had a ways to go before I could ditch them completely and walk on my own), trying my best to dodge cries of "Alexandra, how does it feel to be back with your parents" and "Alexandra, are you looking to press legal action against the surviving family of your kidnappers?"

Great way to start your first day, I mean honestly - they didn't HAVE to show up. It only got worse once I got inside, and met the kids in my homeroom class. Talk about a bunch of SNOBS! All day long, I was either:

A) asked constantly about the details of my kidnapping

B) asked what my parents do for a living

C) asked what type of house I lived in, and where it was located

D) completely ignored, yet obviously talked about by the stares of other students

I couldn't help myself. I tried to be civil and give straightforward answers, but I guess I came off the way most people see my Dad - a complete jerk. Although, the more I think about it, I had every good reason to act that way...those were personal questions they had no business asking in the first place! The final straw though was in the middle of my biology class, when I overheard someone say "She's awful sarcastic and rude about everything - I bet her parents wished she would have just died instead of coming back to ruin their lives"

I grabbed everything from my locker and left campus. I pulled out my cell phone and started to call my Dad, when I realized that he'd probably make me go back and finish out the day. He'd probably tell me to try harder and just put up with it - make their lives hell, most likely. I hung up before anybody could answer and took my time hobbling down the block to a local park I'd spotted on the way to school this morning. I couldn't even last a day - how pathetic was I?

I reached the park and the first thing I did was take off the stupid blazer with the school logo on it and throw it, along with my bookbag on a park bench. Throwing my crutches aside, I limped carefully and sat myself down in a swing...rocking myself back and forth slowly with my good leg, staring off into a grouping of trees in the distance - savoring the silence of the empty park, glad there was no one there to ask me how I was handling things or even stupider questions about my parents and how wealthy they were. Launching into a full blown pity party was something that I was becoming great it - I wonder if I could make a career of it. I sure as hell didn't know where else my life was headed - David once told me that I was never going to amount to anything...I wondered if he was right. I make myself sick sometimes - I don't DESERVE to be called a House. Houses' are suppose to be tough - we're suppose to shield ourselves from pity. We're suppose to make fun of others and hide what we're REALLY feeling from everybody.

I was so deep in thought, that I completely missed the fact that the swing next to me had become occupied.


	2. Problems: House

**An:** Constructive criticism is always welcome - namely when I have no idea where this plot is going as of yet. Thank you though, for the positive reviews anyway.

**Home - Problems**

****

When I got that phone call, I knew we were going to have a problem.

The past six weeks have been so damned surreal - I was waiting for somebody to pop out of a closet and tell me it's all been nothing but a nightmare. Of course I knew nothing of the sort was going to happen. It's a complete whirlwind of emotions when your child, once lost at the age of not quite six, returns into your life eight years later - now a teenager, showing hardly a trace of the little girl that you once knew so many years ago.

The days following our daughter's recovery were tough ones. Alexandra faught death for almost a week in the ICU before she came back to us. For awhile it looked like things were going to be fine. The sarcasm and wit I remember her having as a tiny child were there, she seemed happy at the prospect of having us around, happy at the fact that her captors were dead - never to harm her again. We spent a nice holiday at home with family and friends - she seemed to be taking everything very well for someone who'd just suffered something that would rank high on a list of life's most traumatic experiences. We never pushed her to talk about what she'd gone through the past eight years - we faught to keep the media away from her the best we possibly could. She seemed a little shy at times, but happy...eager to pick up where she last left off.

I now know it was myself and Allison who were in the wrong. Instead of going on like she'd just been on vacation the past eight years - we should have actually done something about it. What, I don't know - I know I have a way with words, but I'm not going to even admit they're of the comforting type. What was I going to say to her? Sorry I was too crippled to save you that day? Welcome back? My daughter and I became complete strangers when it came to anything that didn't involve laughing or snarking at others. It was obvious from the moment she started talking that she was as similiar to myself as they come...which is probably why it was so hard for her (and myself). It was amusing back in the day, but after all she'd gone through I think she's become as standoffish as I was all those years ago after my infarction. I could see it in her eyes - it's the same look I would give Stacy when she pressured me to talk about what had happened, the same look I'd give anybody who wanted to pick me apart. I acted like nothing was wrong - and it's there that I made my mistake.

When I look into my daughter's eyes now, I not only see said look - I see a person who knows she's completely lost.

* * *

It was Allison who asked Allie if she'd like to return back to school.

Allison was so excited when she agreed. So excited that she missed the look that briefly flashed across our daughter's face - one of complete fear and uncertainty. My daughter was strong, I knew this from the moment she'd been born - but I had no idea she'd picked up Allison's "need to please" gene. You could tell that she didn't want to do this - but she wanted desperately to make us happy. I should have said something, I really should have. I guess I must really be the most selfish person on the planet though, because I just went right along with the plan.

Allison and I had been off of work since Allie had been recovered. I hadn't been to work in so long, I was far too happy to be returning. One year after my daughter was taken, the hospital had decided to offer our diagnostic team permanent positions. The department of diagnostics at PPTH had become so well known by this time, that they figured they had nothing but positive things to gain by keeping it around. Allison, Chase and Foreman's fellowship had already been extended and would be ending officially around this time and the hospital had offered them impressive contracts to keep them around as part of the permanent team. They all accepted and our department had not only grown, buthad become one of the leading centers for diagnostics on the east coast. It was the one good thing to come from the mess that had errupted a year ago. It offered me a chance to throw myself into work completely - forget what was happening at home. I missed work - I know my daughter being back takes precident, but I was eager to get back. So I went along with this plan of sending my daughter, fragile and obviously depressed, off to start as a freshman at the well known private school here in Princeton.

Allie didn't have much to say about the whole thing. She joked around about having to wear a school uniform (she'd picked up a style that Wilson loved to call "daddy's little punk rocker", thus creating many frowns over a tie and pleated skirt) and acted pleased that she'd get a chance to make some actual friends. She'd also been spending increasing amounts of time alone in her room blaring The Misfits, playing electric guitar and the drums at a level so loud - it was probably responsible for waking up the ancient old man in a coma at the hospital, only to have him croak obscenities at me for a good three minutes (how was I to know he could hear me eating at his bedside all those times?), then die of a massive brain hemmorage a moment later. She was no doubt upset, just completely refusing to share her feelings on the matter.

* * *

The day she started school, was one the media decided they absolutely needed to cover.

Cameras littered the front entrance to her school, but she took it like a true House and stormed in there as fast as her crutches would carry her. I hoped that she'd be alright - Allison was convinced that she'd have a brilliant time, but I had my doubts. I should have sent her to a public school where the kids wouldn't be so judgemental, or at least kept her home for awhile. She was SO much like myself, I knew it would be a matter of days (or as I was to find out - hours) before she cracked and either a) got herself kicked out or b) left on her own accord. I highly doubted that one could hold in something like she went through, and continue to fare fine in daily life. She didn't even have a clue about real life -she'd been locked in a room for the past eight years!

When I got the phone call in the middle of that morning's differential diagnosis session, I somehow knew before picking up the receiver, what it was going to be about.

Allie's school was calling to inform me that she'd been present in all her morning classes, but dissappeared shortly before lunch. Instead of telling Allison what was going on (no need to shatter her bubble of 'dad and me and depressed teenager make three') I did the only thing that an avoidant father who would rather suffer the plague than talk about feelings would do -

I sent Wilson to go find her.


	3. Little Miss Smartass: Wilson

**AN:**It's probably blatantly obvious that I'm struggling for ideas - thus creating pointless blather until I figure out some type of plot for House and Cameron. Seriously, if you have any ideas, don't hesitate to let them be known. Sorry for the long delay with updating…I just had midterms and my dissection labs in biology (um, ew?) and I haven't had much time for writing. Three weeks till finals and I'll have the whole summer to finish this thing and loaf around to my heart's content! That is if I still have a working heart after thinking I saw Hugh Laurie riding around in West Hollywood (seriously, talk about having a coronary… I don't even know if that was him either)…whoever it was cut us off in traffic (I seem to have the curse of being cut off on the street by famous people…it's not even cool, it's ANNOYING). See, this is what happens when I have an audience to ramble on in front of. Ahem. Constructive criticism is always welcomed, as are all reviews. Enjoy!

**Chapter 3: Little Miss Smartass**

I wonder sometimes, if House ever thought about what he might be getting himself into, should he decide to procreate.

I was at my desk, enjoying the day free from meetings, trying to catch up with my charts when the door burst open and a large cane smacked itself down on my desk. He needed a favor - again. I usually don't mind doing them if that means he'll keep himself out of trouble, but I had no idea what could be the problem...things had been eerily quiet on the "Greg House vs. the world" front lately.

Then he told me Allie had run off from school, and that he needed me to go find her. I should have known.

* * *

Things had finally been settling down since my goddaughter had walked back into our lives about six weeks ago. 

When I mean settle down, I _REALLY_ mean settle down. Allison was on cloud nine - you wouldn't look at her and realize it was a little over a month since she'd tried to kill herself. She'd thrown herself into the task of concentrating on work AND trying to be super mommy to a little girl who well…wasn't exactly a little girl anymore - completely refusing to see the trouble that was slowly brewing. House had remained pretty much the same old reliable bastard through the whole ordeal. Sure, he might have displayed emotion when they found Allie - causing nurses and his own staff to double take and wonder when exactly, that the mother-ship had come down to give him the lobotomy we'd all be hoping for...but he was still House. In fact he seemed to be trying to cover up everything with MORE snark, much to the disarray of everyone around him. I suppose that the delight we all experienced when we realized Allie was safe, was happiness in such a great magnitude as to cover up what Allie herself was going through.

I didn't think it was my place to say anything about sending her back to school. Like her father, she seemed to have a great knack for pretending things were just fine - when in fact her world was caving in. I was there the night Allison asked her if she was ready to go back to school and witnessed a very emotional act that Nicole Kidman couldn't have pulled off better. She smiled and asked her mother if it was true - could she really go back this soon? I almost bought it till I was getting ready to leave their house after dinner that night. I was grabbing my coat that I'd left in the kitchen when I spotted movement out in the backyard. I knew House and Allison had already gone upstairs, and I figured Allie had followed suit. I let myself out into the backyard and found my goddaughter, sitting off by herself in the gazebo that stood directly behind the pool.

I approached slowly and softly asked her if everything was alright.

I received a sad look, and watched as she wiped tears off her face and said "I'm fine, Uncle Jimmy."

I told her that it didn't look like she was fine, and sat down next to her.

It took about two seconds for Allie to grab her crutches and stand up, telling me she was "FINE...why does everybody keep asking me that?" She stopped briefly, like she wanted to add something, but just turned and left - telling me goodbye.

It was then that I knew that House and Allison had another problem on their hands - one that I wasn't sure they had recognized yet.

* * *

I drove a couple of blocks around the school and wasn't able to find her. 

It was then that I noticed a small deserted park. I pulled my car into the parking lot and immediately spied a pair of crutches thrown on the pavement, as well as a book bag and a jacket - but most importantly, my goddaughter, sitting in a swing, rocking herself back and forth.

I sat down in the swing next to her and waited for her to acknowledge my presence. Usually, the look on a person's face will give away what they are feeling. The look on her face though, was something I'd just like to forget - anger, sadness, resentment, fear…it clearly showed through her eyes in the brief moment she looked at me, before continuing to swing back and forth. I took it upon myself to ask her why she had run off, her school had called and her dad was pretty upset.

"So upset that he couldn't bring it upon himself to come and find me? Yeah, I'd mark that high up on the I give a shit factor," was the answer shot back at me in a somewhat sarcastic fashion. Like father like daughter.

I told her that of all people, she should know that her father has problems when it comes to communication.

Again - no answer.

I found myself telling her that I know she was having a hard time, but she'd just gone back to school and she's got to give it a couple of weeks before things start to go back to normal. That her parents want nothing more than for her to go back to being happy. For her to move on from her past and look forward to creating a happy future.

"What makes you think I'm not happy?" she replied.

"Don't peg me as a complete idiot Allie," I started to tell her, "Don't expect me to believe for one second that a person who's gone through what you've gone through can be in the least bit ready to put aside what happened. I witnessed firsthand what happened to you out there on the road that day, I - "

She cut me off mid sentence, stood up and prepared to walk away. I got up from the swing and grabbed her by the shoulder and told her flat out that she can't keep running. She just looked at me and in the most annoyed, yet heartbreaking fashion I've ever heard, told me that she had no idea what she was running from - she didn't even know what in the hell she was feeling anymore...that she was just blank, an unwritten person and that she hated herself for it. Before I could even give a response, she grabbed her crutches and limped off to the car, opened the door of my car and sat down in the passenger seat.

I sighed and got into the driver's seat.

"You know you can talk to any of us about this," I told her, "we're all pretty good listeners...well maybe not your dad, but even HE has his moments."

She looked at me and just continued to stare out the window - again, silent. She reached for her bottle of Vicodin in her backpack and popped two into her mouth, giving me a small glance to see if I'd noticed her doing so. I grabbed the bottle away a moment later and put it into my shirt pocket. I told her there's no way in hell I'm letting her become a mini version of her father...especially at the age of fourteen. She just glared at me for a second, and then for the first time in awhile dropped the glare - and gave a real smile.

The car ride back, she finally opened up and told me exactly what had happened to her at school. She also made it known that no amount of persuasion would work in getting her back into that place. She wasn't going to be surrounded by "materialistic idiots, cheerleaders, jocks and snobs" all day long. I told her she needed to tell her parents that, and again...silence. I asked her if she was afraid that she'd disappoint them and she just gave me the infamous House glare - not knowing that after 30 years of friendship with Greg...I was completely immune to it. I figured I had hit a nerve and told her that her mom and dad were going to probably make her go back for at least a little while, so why not try and just stick it out?

All I received was another murderous glare and the simple reply of "NOPE!"

* * *

She barged into the conference room right in the middle of a differential diagnosis session. 

"The prodigal daughter returns!" was House's greeting as Allison, Foreman and Chase got up to give her a hug.

He asked her how her day had gone and she looked at me, turned straight at him and told him she wasn't going back to that "place" ever again - save the tuition money for vicodin and scotch...she was too smart for high school anyway. She limped off into his office and flopped down on House's chair, yelling "By all means...don't mind me, continue!"

"We're going to talk about this later," came House's reply. He looked like he was going to regret his statement at any minute.

"WHATEVER," was the replyand with that we all sat back down to continue with the differential, somewhat amused and somewhat worried at her behavior. You could see Allison's face fall as soon as Allie had spoken - I was worried that her "rebellious" behavior would weaken Allison's already fragile emotional state. Something clearly needed to be done before everything escaladed out of all our control.

I stuck around for a few moments to listen in on the progress of their latest patient. House was rattling on about the latest symptoms and picking on Chase for coming up with the "lamest excuse for a diagnosis he's ever heard of" when a shout came from his office.

"It's obviously episodic ataxia - what else causes frequent loss of muscle control and coordination for an hour then goes away a moment later...yet occurs on an almost daily basis? _Hello_, I thought medical school was a requirement, not an option?"

House walked over to his office and just stared at Allie as everything in the conference room went silent.

We all stared at each other as little miss smartass loudly proclaimed, "I told you I was too smart for high school!"

I took it upon myself at that moment to go back to my office, not knowing whether to be amazed that a fourteen year old had pinpointed what could very well be a rare occurrence of the neurological disorder that only ten thousand members of the United States had been documented having - or laugh my ass off at the look on House's face.

The last thing I'm pretty sure I heard while leaving, was House demanding Foreman pay up his part of the bet - he knew he would somebody sooner or later that was under the age of eighteen and a million times smarter than Chase.


	4. Could Be Worse: Allie

**AN:** Yay, more filler...and still no traces of a plot! Thanks for the great review, J.Daisy - you posted it before I could post this chapter, which hopefully elaborates on a couple of the matters that you asked about! I'm in desperate need of ideas, so don't hesitate to drop some along with the constructive criticism that I love so much. Next chapter I'm going to attempt to throw in some thoughts from Cameron's POV - even if I don't write her very well. Updates might be a bit slower now that I have no idea where this is going - but thanks for reading anyway!

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Could Be Worse**

_"So I managed to survive another three weeks. I promised Uncle Jimmy I would try and talk things out instead of staying quiet...I'm not sure if I managed it fully, but I hopefully got my point across. I suppose I was worried about disappointing them, but I don't see why I should be unhappy with whatever arrangement they come up with. Okay, so it was partly my fault for telling mom I was fine about going back to school, but what was I suppose to say? Shove it? I'm never going back? Stop trying to act like you know what's best for me? Dad ended up calling the school the day all of this started and told them I wouldn't be coming back. When they asked him why, he just demanded a refund check for my tuition and hung the phone up on whatever poor soul it was, just trying to do their job. _

_Mom sat me down for another one of her "What's wrong, please tell me" sessions that night, and dad just went straight for the bottle of scotch. I really don't understand why she can't see that I'm no longer a child. Okay, maybe I DO see why, I just am afraid of what's going to happen if I DONT. I ended up telling her to please just leave me be , went up to my room and pounded out some songs by the Sex Pistols on my drum set, which never fails to make me feel better. Well, it was more like two songs, because dad came upstairs and told me if I didn't cut out that racket and play something more quiet, like the piano, he'd throw the damn thing out the window. _

_Last night was a small victory on the family front though, as I managed to pry what had happened during the eight years I was gone, out of my Uncle Eric. He told me about her suicide attempt and the emotional struggle both of them had gone through - how they'd been so close to divorce. I realized at that moment, it's not really that she thinks I'm still a child - she's trying in her own way to compensate for all the years she missed with me. How can I be annoyed at somebody who just wants to make everything up to me? It's irritating as hell to have her constantly watching over me and waiting with the milk and cookies - but what can I do?_

_I really thought I'd get away with never going back to school ever again after the whole "let's play hooky" incident, but I was soon proven wrong. I'd spent the rest of that day in the conference room, dodging my dad, who wanted to know how in the world I'd come up with what turned out to be the correct diagnosis on their patient. I told him I watched a lot of "ER" during the eight years...watching Noah Wyle spout out medical terms in that hot white coat really inspired me to learn the ways of the medical world! He just rolled his eyes and said he'd figure it out sooner or later. Covering it up with humor was a lot easier than coming forth with the actual truth. I don't like to talk about those eight years very much because I really don't know how it's going to effect them once they DO find out._

_Books were my only friends growing up - the only times I could break up the monotony of being isolated from the world. Books were the one thing that allowed me to travel to foreign lands, to read about places I'd only imagined going, the only thing that Marie and David allowed me free reign over. It was the year I turned six that books and reading really opened up a new world for me. _

_As some sort of a sick joke on David's part, he'd dropped a copy of a medical journal on my bed one night - including a long article written by my father on diagnostics. I remember clutching the journal to my chest at night, reading and re-reading, imagining that at the end of the booklet my father would be waiting to take me away from this place. I'd glance at the small photo of the hospital's diagnostics team included in the article and think back on the six years of memories I'd shared with them. My dad whispering into my ear to call him Chase instead of Uncle Rob...just to piss him off, my Uncle Eric giving me wheelchair rides all around the hospital when I'd been bored, my Aunt Lisa telling me about women's rights and how I should deal with people like my dad when I grew up, my lunches with Uncle Jimmy in the hospital cafeteria...my mother, bringing me along to the clinic and letting me call patients to each exam room because I had so much fun "playing doctor"- these memories brought tears to my eyes, but remembering them was all I had. _

_That medical journal was my only link to the past - and the link that ended up inspiring my future. From that point on I read every bit of medical text I could get my hands on...retaining all of it and apparently, gaining the means to shock the hell out of everyone in the process. At times when I question what my future holds, I make elaborate plans of going to medical school and following in my parent's footsteps. I imagine a future where there's no recollection of the painful past - just happy memories about what's in store. _

_I still have the medical journal...one of the few things I took with me that fateful day. I look at it from time to time, but all the good memories associated with it are gone...replaced with eight years of verbal, emotional and physical abuse. Twenty five pages filled with memories I try so hard to forget, yet cannot seem to get rid of. Twenty five pages full of memories I long to share with my family - yet twenty five pages I'm deathly afraid to share. _

_I guess things could be a lot worse." _**-A.H.**

* * *

I sighed to myself and looked down once again at the damn diary, who managed to creep it's way into part of my daily routine. I suppose sharing my thoughts with a piece of paper is better than the alternative - sharing them with the shrink I know my Aunt Lisa wants me to start seeing. She actually found somebody in this hospital who would be willing to listen, even though I have the last name "House". I love how you say that name around here and people start looking all over, in a fit of terror for the nearest corner to dunk behind. I've affectionately earned the nickname "House's Spawn" from the nursing staff, and they all grimace when they see me and dad hobbling down the hallway, trying to trip each other - him with his cane and I with my crutches.

I've been spending most of my days here at the hospital, working on the homework my home study teacher has assigned me (boring!), running errands around the hospital for anybody who asks, playing lookout for my dad when he wants to avoid clinic duty, or hanging with my newest friend - a girl named Bridget who's parents work in oncology with my Uncle Jimmy and always seems to be loitering around my Uncle Chase…salivating at his accent. I'm going to go back to the PUBLIC school next semester, when my mom can get over her overprotective streak that she seems to be on. I hear them arguing about it at least two times a night and it worries me. I don't want to be the glue holding their relationship together...

I also don't want to show them the letter I received yesterday afternoon from an attorney who is handling David and Marie's estate. I got the shock of my life when I opened it, I really did. Enclosed was a letter with something that made my eyes bug out:

**Dear Miss House,**

**My name is Jack Shepard and I'm the attorney at law, handling the estate of your former abductors David and Marie Williams. I'm writing to you today on behalf of the daughter of your abductors. In the weeks following your kidnapping, it became known that the daughter they supposedly lost, was indeed very much alive and well, living with the family who became her legal adoptive parents, upon David and Marie's surrender of parental custody. The daughter was completely shocked to find out that her biological parents had left their entire estate to her, and even more shocked to find out that her parents were the center of your kidnapping. **

**In talks with their daughter, it became immediately apparent that she knew exactly what she wanted to do. Enclosed and made out to you, Alexandra Anne House, is a certified check in the amount of $22,400,000.00. The daughter feels strongly that the money left in the Williams estate belongs to you for the hardships they inflicted upon you. The $30,000 stallion Marie Williams purchased for you is also part of this deal - it is being housed in the Princeton Stables and a key to it's new stall is enclosed. She wishes to express her sympathies over everything you have had to endure and hopes that the enclosed will give you a start on a bright future. **

**Sincerely,**

**Jack Shepard, attorney at law**

I know I should share something like this with mom and dad, but part of me wants to take this check and rip it into a million tiny pieces. Money isn't going to make me forget what it's like to be pushed down the stairs. Money isn't going to make me forget what it's like to have your head bashed into a wall. - repeated times until you pass out. Money isn't going to take away all the nights I cried myself to sleep, dreaming about a life that was no more.

I picked up the check and the letter and placed it into the waste basket under my desk. I went to my closet and took out the medical journal I'd been saving all these years and threw it in there as well. I grabbed the box of matches I kept on my dresser to light candles with and struck one against the side of the box - watching as it ignited, and held it over the basket. What was any of it worth if I couldn't have the one thing I'd been searching all of my life for - what was it all worth without happiness?

I raised my arm to toss the match into the basket, when all of a sudden someone grabbed my wrist.


	5. Things Seen: Allison

**A/N:** Chapter 5 and no plot. Arugh. Anyway, thank you for the kind reviews!

**Chapter 5 - Things Seen**

"What the HELL are you doing?"

That was the first thing out of my mouth as I found my fourteen year old about to burn something that could very well change her future. There had been a message on the answering machine by the lawyer, explaining that he'd sent the letter and the check in Allie's name. I had come upstairs to see if she'd opened it and found her sitting by a trashcan, a lit match in her hand, about to toss it into the basket.

I felt pretty bad for sneaking up on her like that, she screamed when I did so. I asked her if she'd gone completely mental, did we need to give her another cat scan to see if that brain was working alright? What kind of person burns twenty-two million dollars? That money could pay for her education and everything else she would ever need for the rest of her life, yet she is ready and willing to give it up in the strike of a match. She just looked at me rather sadly and turned her back, unwilling to give an explanation - but more than willing to give me the cold shoulder.

I'd been sensing the growing void between my daughter and myself the days following her return from the hospital.

* * *

When James found her that day, putting aside the fact that I'd tried to kill myself seemed like the easiest thing to do. It was already a sketchy subject with House, I figured that once I had my daughter back in my life, I'd be able to pick up where I left off eight years ago and all would be well. Everyone had tried to warn me if I expected that, I'd be in for a great surprise. Eric told me I needed to stop and realize something very important - she was not the five year old little girl I remember, but a fourteen year old teenager...and one that had been through tremendous hardship in her life. He told me that I shouldn't ignore that fact or I'd be asking for a lot of trouble.

I suppose the way she looks at me now means that I didn't listen to a damn word of advice. I know I may be going a little bit overboard with the mothering, but it scares me. Every time I look at my daughter I can't help but see the worst in things. I look at her and see not the woman she is growing up to be, I see the five year old girl clinging to her father. I see the little girl I left sleeping in the office, so soundly, unaware that in the next ten minutes life as she knew it would be destroyed. I see the lonely years I spent by myself, crying for my only child with my husband no where by my side. I see the white pills that offered me an escape from all of the pain. I see the melancholy look on my husbands face as he sat by my bedside, wondering if the person he fell in love with would ever be happy again. I see the balloons that flew up into the air, the balloons that represented a little girl I would never see again. I see the breaking news segment on television, telling me there had been an accident. I see my husband, holding the hand of a girl in a hospital bed, broken and bruised and just barely hanging onto life. I see my long lost child walk back into my life eight years later and give me back all that I'd ever wanted.

I see new things now too.

I see myself losing her all over again. I see the sadness in her eyes, the empty shell of someone once so vibrant and full of life. I see her one day asking me the question that is sure to come. I see her looking at me and asking how I could have let anything happen to her. I see her hating me for not being able to find her so many years ago.

I think the problem is that these things I see...I shouldn't be seeing at all.

* * *

I told her that I would really like it if she told me what was going on inside her head lately and she just snorted in a manner eerily like her father.

"Do you really want to what is wrong with me?" she said.

I nodded, attempting to take her hand. She let her hang linger for a moment in mine before she pulled away and stood to look out the window.

"I need you to stop doing this to me. I need you to stop looking at me like I am going to break. I need you to stop looking at me like I'm a damaged piece of goods you're dying to fix. I need you to stop treating me like a child, watching my every move and making sure that I'm okay every second of the day. Most of all, I want you to stop acting like you know what I went through all those years ago. I need you to just leave me alone and forget about me...I will be fine, I made it eight years without a person giving a damn about me. If it makes you happy, I won't burn the damn money." she told me, starting to cry halfway through her little speech. She grabbed her crutches off her bed and walked out of her bedroom as fast as she could.

I sat there for what seemed like the longest time, taking in everything that she had said...knowing very well that she was partially right.

I walked over to the wastepaper basket and dumped it's contents onto the desk. I took the check and put it into my pocket...I would open a bank account in her name and make sure she knew it was there when she needed it. I glanced down at the other object I'd pulled out of the trash and immediately became surprised at what I'd found. It was a medical journal, but not just any journal. It was the journal House had been published in - the first article he'd worked on since they'd taken Allie. I noticed that the pages were dog eared and showed signs of being read hundreds of times. I opened it up and flipped through the pages until I came to House's article.

They had included a photo of the diagnostics team and around that photo, drawn crudely in crayon was a red heart. Next to the photo, in a childish print, the following words were written:

_"Don't ever forget"_


	6. Three Months Later: Allie

**A/N: **Ok, so after a lot of planning I've finally figured out a storyline. I figure it'll evolve into around 17 chapters long, depending on how many parts I break it up into. Anyway, I love constructive criticism, so read and review!

* * *

Chapter 6: Three Months Later

_"Three months...I cannot believe that it's been three months since that day in the room and the confrontation with my mother. I can't really tell if things are better, but I know they've calmed down quite a bit. Mom decided at well, everyone's persistence, that she'd cool it with the heart to heart talks and just leave me alone. She told me that above all she was worried I'd never feel at home here, that I would never feel like I had a place anywhere. I brushed it off as untrue, but in a way I'm just lying to myself. Either way, I've just decided to push all those feelings aside and get on with my life. _

_Two months ago, I went back to school. I'm no longer at that stupid college prepatory school they insisted on making me go to, but the local public school. It's here that I've found a real sense of belonging. The first day here, I wasn't treated like some oddball curiosity - I was treated like any other new student. I've made a great group of friends who don't dwell on my past, but give me friendship with no strings attached. I go to school, go out with friends and now live the life I've dreamt of having since the age of six. I still have plenty of days that I'd rather be alone and days that I refuse to acknowledge my past - but the good ones I find are slowly pushing away the bad. Above all, I hope that things stay this way..."_ **-A.H.**

* * *

I glanced up at the clock hanging on the north wall of my geometry classroom. Sighing, I went back to doodling in my notebook as my teacher droned on...I'd been doing this for the past thirty minutes. Right in the middle of a particularly nice daydream about my gorgeous Uncle Chase, myself and a white stallion galloping along the white sand beaches of the Caribbean - a sharp jab in the ribcage brought me back into reality.

Bridget had just stabbed me, and told me to pay attention - apparently she noticed my glazed over expression and pointed out that my teacher did as well. I sighed and attempted to pay some attention. Leave it to Bridget, the math whiz to bring me back into reality and actually take this class seriously.

Bridget O'Malley I guess, is what you would call my "best friend." I met her for the first time at the hospital where mom and dad work, her parents work in the oncology department with Uncle Jimmy and occasionally give consults to the diagnostics department. It shocked me even more to learn that we lived next door to each other! Her parents moved her whole family over from Ireland at the age of ten and she too knows what it was like to experience the feeling - one where you're not sure you belong. Although I have no idea what she is talking about half of the time - she has gorgeous guys swarming all over here for the same reasons as my Uncle Chase...the accent. Her parents are friends with my parents and we end up seeing a lot of each other. It's fantastic to have somebody who understands you...somebody who isn't always looking to fix the bad, but just accepts you as you are.

* * *

I sighed and attempted to pay some attention. I may love science, but math is something I'd desperately love to leave out of the picture. I wonder if you can get into medical school without it? Probably not, but if you asked Dad, he'll just tell me to look at Chase and the answers will fly right in front of my face. I hate laughing when he picks on him so much...but it's just too funny. I've still got five more classes till the day ends, but I've checked out of my mind long ago. I wonder if it's possible to sleep with your eyes open?

After school plans were already beckoning me. Since I've been here, I've discovered a whole new world of things I didn't know existed. I've taken up the bass guitar (Dad considers my love of punk and not the stones pure blasphemy), skateboarding and continue to pursue horseback riding. Trying to stay busy every second of the day keeps my mind off things that I'd shoved aside. It's a lot nicer to deal with normal problems like who's going to give me and Bridget a ride to the mall after school, than worrying about how I'll be able to avoid getting beat up by David.

_"So, are we going to go to PPTH and oogle your hot uncle after class? -B"_ is the note that landed on my desk a moment after I'd finished with my brief journey through the land of somber thoughts. Shedoesn't give up, she really doesn't. Bridget says her life plan is to go to college and complete medical school, but I often wonder if she'll make the news first for being the underage lover of some thirty year old man! She laughs when I tell her this, tells me to make sure the made for television movie portrays a girl with a bigger chest than she currently has.

I picked up the sheet of paper, and wrote: _"Not on your life - he may look like he's in his twenties, but he's a million years older than you...not a chance girl,"_ and waited till my teacher wasn't looking before throwing it back on her desk. She looked a tad disappointed that "Chase Watching" wasn't going to be included in our after school activities, but picked up her pen and scribbled a note back to me.

_"Fine...you're such a poor sport. How about instead of going back to your place we take our skateboards and head over to the hospital and use the front entrance as a skate park again? I still can't get over the look on Cuddy's face the last time she caught us in action...or the look on her face as she caught your dad cheering me on from behind a shrub, as I pulled off a grind down the steps to the front entrance! I say we bring along some of the guys this time too...I love making a scene!"_ came the reply. I had to laugh just thinking about that particular day. Aunt Lisa had come out of the main hospital entrance in time to see Bridget plummet down the staircase rail. She was just going to chase us off, when she caught sight of my dad hiding behind a large bush, watching and egging us on. She was two seconds from beating him over the head with his own cane. As punishment, Dad ended up with more clinic hours and Bridget and I had to deliver mail all afternoon.

I smiled and wrote,_ "It's a plan,"_ back on the paper and tossed it back to her, right before my teacher turned around and gave us another death glare. She opened up the note and gave me a thumbs up.

* * *

We were sitting in our next period English class when an office assistant came into the classroom. She handed an office note to my teacher, who in turn looked directly at me. Bridget and my friend Ryan gave me questioning looks as the teacher told me to grab my things and go up to the main office. Someone in the back of the classroom yelled "Oh man, she's in trouble again!" as I worriedly grabbed the note and walked down the hallways to the office. I can't help it if trouble seems to follow me around…okay I can't help it if I like CREATING it.

When I got there, the secretary told me somebody from my parents work was here to pick me up and take me back to the hospital. There was an ongoing emergency with my dad and my mother sent him to pick me up and take me, as the rest of my family was busy with work. I nodded, quite upset, wondering what on earth could be going on. I walked into the waiting area of the front office and a large man stood up. He was wearing a PPTH identification badge, but by then I was so worried I barely glanced at it...I didn't recognize him as anybody from the hospital.

We walked out to the parking lot and he directed me to a large slate blue truck and I climbed into the passenger seat. He got into the driver side, unclipped his hospital ID and threw it in the back seat. I turned and asked him what was wrong with my father, why did I have to get there immediately...was he okay? The man just looked at me and said nothing. He pulled away from the parking space and upon leaving the parking lot, he turned the opposite direction of the hospital. My stomach lurched as I asked him once again.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?" I said to him again, this time so forcefully it could have been considered a yell.

The man waited until we were off of the main road before he pulled over. I knew by now that we were definitely not on our way to my parents work. I was beginning to get scared, but asked him once again what was wrong with my father...was he at a different hospital? Where were we going?

The man unbuckled his seat belt and leaned towards me. He raised his large hand and brushed it up against the side of my cheek. I immediately cringed and moved closer to the door. I grabbed the handle and tried to open it, finding that the door locks had been applied. The man continued to run his hand down my cheek and whispered into my ear, "You're never going to see your father again...ever."

A feeling of deja vu overtook every emotion I had at that moment. A single tear started it's descent down my cheek as the man pulled back and started the car up again, pulling off down the deserted road. I was silent for a few moments and mustered up the courage to speak.

"What's your name?" I found myself asking.

Before I could receive a response, the man lifted the side of his suit jacket up, revealing to me a large black gun nestled inside a holster. My eyes grew wide as he told me now was not the time to be asking names...I'd better cooperate or I'd pay the price. I told him to fuck off, that I wasn't going to let this happen to me again. The man stopped the car once again, leaned towards me and I instantly and rather frantically tried to grab the door handle...willing it to open. The man raised his hand towards my head and bashed it into the glass window on the passenger side.

All I remember is seeing stars, quickly growing vertigo and an immense feeling of pain before my eyes closed.


	7. Alive: Wilson

A/N: I like actually having a plot. The rating of this might change in a couple of chapters...I'm in a rather dark mood as of lately (more than likely having to do with it being the week of finals) and finished reading "The Deep End of the Ocean" (finally), which is where I got the original idea for this story. Thank you for the great reviews!

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Chapter 7 - Alive

It started out like any ordinary day at the hospital. When I say ordinary, I MEAN ordinary. For the first time in the past eight years, things had finally begun to calm down.

Allie had almost completely recovered from her injuries, having gotten rid of her own cane weeks ago. It had been humorous to see father and daughter walking down the halls, a trail of verbal terror following behind both of them, ready to take out any poor soul that crossed it's path. She'd had a hard time adjusting back into the swing of things, but bravely returned to the local public school since then, ditching the cane and ditching the melancholy look upon her face...replacing it with what I assumed to be a very good facade of happiness.

Allie arrived at the hospital the afternoon following her first day, with the daughter of two of my colleuges in tow. It was apparent that they had become fast friends and I was glad for her - even though the girl was a right terror when it came to hyperactivity. The last time I'd seen her, she'd had half the oncology department groaning at her - she'd been parked in the lounge with her feet up on the coffee table, watching the forty or so episodes of "Jackass" that she'd tivo'd...right over the rest of the department's shows. House had come in upon hearing the yelling, and plopped himself down right next to the girl - laughing as one of the guys on the show attempted to play bullfighter.

Since that day though, I'd noticed a big change. Allie had found her own life, away from her parents - and with that, I noticed a big change in Allison and House. I had a hard time finding a time when Allison wasn't smiling or ready to be overly helpful...a total three sixty from the crying mess she'd been not so long ago. House was completing his clinic hours with hardly a complaint and seemed to be almost...cheerful at times - it was odd, but a relief none the less. Cuddy had come up to me just yesterday, astonished that House had gone an entire week without calling her Satan, or making a crack about her funbags heading south for eternal hibernation! Whatever was going on, we were all going to shut up and take it while it last.

* * *

House, Allison, Foreman, Chase and myself had been gathered in the conference room around noon that particular day. They'd been working on a particularly hard case for well over a week, when they'd called me in for a consult. I'd finally made a diagnoses of acute Myelogenous leukemia brought on by undiagnosed Polycythemia Vera. House had been mouthing off that they should have called Allie in for a consult and they would have come to this conclusion a LOT faster - she was definitely more useful than Chase and Foreman combined - when a shadow fell over the conference room.

Outside, the clouds had moved over the sun and the echo of thunder signaled an oncoming storm a few miles off in the distance. House and I had gotten up to look out the blinds while the rest of the team helped themselves to more coffee. I glanced at the menacing sky, and was about to ask Allison and House if they'd like a ride home today (they'd come in on House's bike) when the sound of breaking glass erased all thoughts. Allison had turned around to go back to the conference table and was now staring at the doors to the conference room. Cuddy and two uniformed police officers were on their way into the conference room.

The police asked if they could speak to the Drs. House privately, but House immediately spoke up and told them to get to the damn point...and fast, he didn't care who was here to listen.

The officers sat down with the rest of the team at the conference table and told them they were here about the ongoing investigation concerning their daughter, Alexandra House.

Allison paled, and I watched as House grabbed her hand.

They informed us that they'd been searching through the belongings of David and Marie Williams over the past couple of months since the recovery, and had reopened the case due to some very suspicious information. Letters had been found, letters written to David Williams requesting his service on a particular matter. In the same box of papers, they had discovered a bank statement, showing the issue of two million dollars into the personal bank account of David Williams. They had also uncovered a map of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and a post it note, stating the hours of the walk in clinic and a list of symptoms...symptoms that described the very condition David Williams was going to be admitted for that very day, eight years ago, under the alias of David Manson.

The last item they had recovered, was the most disturbing of all. They had recovered a series of 6x4 color photos, and produced them on the conference room table, fresh out of a clear evidence bag. The first photo showed a door, clearly labeled "Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital: Employee Day Care Center." The second photo was a photo of a young woman dressed in a colorful set of scrubs, sitting ahead of a large group of small children, the book "Where the Wild Things Are" in her hands. The last photo was a close up shot of young girl with deep auburn hair and blue eyes, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a pink t-shirt that read "My daddy has a cane, and isn't afraid to use it!", listening to the young lady reading - a photo of six year old Alexandra House.

It was at this point, that House broke the silence by asking who exactly, this bastard was.

The officers stood and told him they couldn't give names at this point, but requested they go home immediately to wait for their daughter's return from school. They also said it would be best to install a security system on their home as soon as possible, if they haven't taken the steps to do so already. Alexandra House was not the victim of a spontaneous kidnapping, they said next - she was part of a conspiracy.

David Williams was dead, but the man who planned the entire kidnapping - was very much **alive**.


	8. Waiting: Allison

**A/N: **I won't be posting the next chapter till later next week (I have finals), so I figured I'd write as much today as possible - and leave you hanging! Thank you for the reviews, keep them coming, I love to hear what you think about this story.

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**Chapter 8 - Waiting**

Wilson was the one that ended up driving myself and Greg home from the hospital.

Cuddy had given us all the rest of the day off, and the entire team piled into Wilson's grey sport utility vehicle. I was completely speechless the entire drive. As we passed by Allie's school, my maternal instincts told me I should be running in there, as fast as I possibly could. Greg put his arm around my shoulder and told me I needed to calm myself down. Allie was safe inside school, probably terrorizing her teachers with pointless questions this very moment. I glanced once more and the school, and buried my head into my husbands shoulder...trying desperately not to completely lose it.

He assured me that they were going to find this guy, whoever the hell had planned it, and we'd never have to deal with any of this mess ever again. I silently hoped that he was correct.

* * *

Things had been so tough the weeks following Allie's return home - especially between the both of us. I'd forced her back into school too quickly, she'd rebelled - we did nothing but fight for a good two weeks. When the anger had tapered out, I realized that I needed to stop treating her like a child, and be the supportive parent who is ready to stand by whatever she's going through.

As soon as she realized that things were going to be okay, she'd bravely made the first steps towards finding out who she was and where she was going in life. Greg and I had enrolled her at Princeton-Plainsboro High School, hoping that there she'd find a reprieve from the wealthy students who only judged her on her social status. She'd come to the hospital after her first day positively _glowing_ with pure happiness - her first friend in tow.

Since then, our lives had fallen into a nice routine. Greg and I would drop her and her friend Bridget off at school every morning, and continue on to work. After school, our next door neighbor's housekeeper would pick up Bridget and Allie and they'd spend the rest of the day happily working on homework, skateboarding or horseback riding, or causing trouble.

The first day of this routine, Greg and I had come home to find Bridget and Allie and a six foot high, paper Mache replica of the Eiffel Tower gracing our front lawn. They were laughing their heads off when Greg went closer to inspect, and the observation tower collapsed in a gooey mess on his head. I knew she was going to be okay front that point on - no doubts.

She didn't bring up her kidnapping and we didn't ask - she didn't seem to even think about it. Most nights we'd have trouble shutting her up, as she would ramble on and on about her day at school and the new friends she'd made. I worried for so long that she'd never find a place in society, that she'd spend the rest of her life trying to figure out where she belonged...and now I know I had no need to worry at all.

We were going to need to discuss these revelations with her, however. Security measures would need to be put in place at her school and at home, and I didn't think for a moment that she wouldn't handle these changes gracefully. She was back with us, so I assumed she'd know we'd do everything in our power to keep anything from happening to her.

* * *

This heavy feeling around my heart would not go away though. Chase, Foreman and Wilson were in the kitchen, making coffee. Greg sat in the recliner, watching me pace back and forth in front of the living room window. From this particular window, I had a good glance down the one fifty yard driveway to the gates that marked the entrance to our property. It was three fifteen in the afternoon and Allie was due home from school sometime in the next fifteen minutes, I was not going to be pacified until I saw the gates open and the housekeeper's car drive up to the house.

The team came back into the living room and sat down. I kept pacing back and forth until Greg stood up and put a hand on my shoulder.

"She'll be here Allison...sit down and please unclench," he told me.

Hesitantly, I sat down, eyes still glued to the window. I took a sip of the coffee Chase had placed in my hands, attempting to distract myself with something. The dark liquid tasted like dirt. I put the mug down, said I was sorry and planted myself down on the seat connected to the bay window I'd just been looking out of.

Greg came and sat down next to me, and we waited.

Three thirty passed and Greg reassured me that they were probably running late, knowing Allie she'd probably scored herself another detention for God knows what. I laughed a little and tried to tell myself that he was right. It was just last week that our daughter had received two half hour detentions for mouthing off to her teachers - which Allie claimed was a nice way of saying,"I am a dumbass and one of my students felt need to correct me."

The grandfather clock in our front hallway struck four o'clock a few minutes later and Greg stood up. At that very moment, the doorbell rang. If it were physically possible for my heart to come up through my esophagus and out my mouth, it would have. I ran to the front door, unlocked it and found my daughter's best friend Bridget standing on our doorstep. I stumbled backwards and Wilson caught me.

"Is Allie home? I didn't see her for the rest of today after she got called up to the front office! We waited for her but I figured she'd gotten a ride home with somebody else today?" were the first words her friend spoke.

Greg asked her what had happened and Bridget said during the middle of class, Allie had received a note summoning her up to the front office. She'd grabbed her backpack and books and headed up there, and she hadn't heard from her since.

Greg told her he'd not seen her all afternoon. Bridget looked at him, puzzled, and said she'd go home and make some calls to their other friends and see if she'd gone home with one of them. Greg nodded and told her thank you, shutting the door rather forcefully.

I took it upon myself at that moment, to call the school and find out exactly what had happened.

"Princeton-Plainsboro High School, how may I help you?" was the ever so polite reply the office secretary gave me. I took a deep breath and asked the secretary that I'd called to inquire after my daughter, Alexandra House, who hadn't returned home after school today." I heard the obvious sounds of typing on a computer keyboard when her voice came back over the line.

"Yes, she was checked out this afternoon by an employee of your work upon the request of (I heard the sound of more typing) her mother, Dr. Allison Cameron-House."

I dropped the phone and gasped.

Greg picked the phone up and once again asked the question I previously had. He frowned for a moment and suddenly exploded into the receiver.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SOMEBODY CHECKED HER OUT? HE HAD AN IDENTIFICATION FROM OUR WORK? WELL, YOU IDIOT, DOES THAT EXACTLY GIVE YOU AUTHORIZATION TO PASS HER OFF TO WHOEVER THE HELL IT WAS? HOW STUPID ARE YOU? I'M GOING TO COME DOWN THERE AND -"

At that moment, after gaining the strength to stand, I walked across the room, grabbed the second phone and got on the line. Trying to sound calm, I cut off the barrage of swear words that were now coming from my husband and asked the secretary whom exactly, had checked her out of class today.

The sound of more computer keys being pressed filled our ears.

"Yes madam, I have the exact information. A man in a suit and labcoat came in to the front office around quarter to noon today and told us he was sent by Dr. Allison Cameron-House to pick up her daughter. Dr. Gregory House hadfell seriously illthat morning and they needed her to come down to Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital immediately and he was there to do the job. I told him we'd need to see some authorized proof that he could take her out of class, and he produced a letter authorizing the release of Alexandra with a Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital letterhead, signed by her mother. I was going to check the computer to make sure this man had authorization when he pulled a hospital identification badge out of his pocket. He told me Dr. Gregory House was in serious condition, suffering from something called "Acute Narcissistic Neurosis," and he was to take her there immediately. At this point Alexandra arrived at the office with a worried look on her face, so I figured with the hospital ID and letter, she was alright - this man seemed very concerned. They - "

Greg cut the woman off again with a loud, "WHAT WAS THE NAME ON THE IDENTIFICATION?"

We received the reply of, "That would be a Dr. Edward Vogler"

This time, Greg and I _BOTH_ dropped the phone.


	9. This Time Around: Cuddy

**A/N:** I'm baaaaaaack. I survived finals and get to spend the next six weeks taking an english class with loads of work. It's an online course, so I'm hoping it's not going to be that bad. Posting will be a bit sporatic (maybe once a week...a little more) while I'm doing this class, but I'll post two chapters at a time, if I can (like I did tonight). Read and review - I love the criticism!

**Ch 9 - This Time Around**

Edward Vogler

I hadn't heard that name in over ten years.

That day in the boardroom, when we all voted to get rid of him, was one of the best days this hospital had ever seen. It may have cost us one hundred million in funding, but as far as I'm concerned - House had already repaid every penny of that loss. The diagnostics department had grown to include not only House's original team, but a group of twenty handpicked doctors - the best in each of the numerous fields of medicine. The hospital had grown in popularity and the diagnostics department alone prevailed - people from all over the world with serious illness came here in hopes that Dr. House and his team could cure them. It'd been a funding nightmare at first, but over the years grown far beyond any of our wildest expectations. We didn't need a penny of Vogler's money.

In the years following his dismissal from the hospital, we'd not heard much about him...which suited me just fine.

Which is why it was a giant shock, when James called me this afternoon. The Princeton Police Department had been to visit us late this morning - we'd all been pretty alarmed to hear the recent developments concerning Alexandra's kidnapping. I'd given House and his team the rest of the day off to go and make sure Allie was alright...how could I have not done so? I figured she would come home from school as usual - House and Allison would explain things to her and make sure she was safe - nothing more to it. I wasn't prepared to hear my goddaughter had been kidnapped once again, and this time by Vogler himself.

I left the hospital and headed directly to the House residence - House and Allison were going to need all the support that they could get. They'd already lived through every parent's worst nightmare...and now they were getting ready to live that nightmare once again.

* * *

My heart lodged in my throat as I drove the ten minutes up the highway to their house. I passed right underneath a large electronic billboard, now flashing the details of a newly issued Amber Alert.

Alexandra House

- 5ft9in

red hair/blue eyes

last seen heading north in black SUV -

It was hard to believe this was happening all over again.

* * *

I could see the flashing lights of the police cars before I even reached the gates that marked the entrance to their property. A short drive through the gates revealed thirteen police cars and their occupants milling about the entrance to their house. Inside the house, police gathered at a makeshift command center, formerly known as the dining room table. Wilson, Dr. Foreman and Dr. Chase sat quietly in the corner, talking to a police officer. In the living room Allison sat, red eyed, underneath House's arm. House was talking to a police officer, obscenities flying from his mouth every two seconds, looking rather pissed off that something like this could be happening to him yet again - only a million times worse, now knowing who was behind it all.

I went and sat down with Wilson and watched silently as a police officer approached House and Allison. The officer asked Allison if she had a recent photo of Alexandra, they'd need it to update the current one in her file.

Allison got up quietly and walked over to a desk drawer. She stumbled, and I grabbed her by the elbow for support. She opened the drawer and pulled out a box of photos. She flipped through and pulled out a photo of Alexandra, taken just last week. The smiling face of my goddaughter was true testimony to how great things had been going lately. She was sitting on House's desk, happy as can be.

Allison took one look at the photo and crumpled. She started yelling Alexandra's name as loud as she could - in a completely heartbreaking matter. House rushed over to her and tried to calm her down, but the breakdown ultimately won. Allison fell apart in the middle of her living room, with everybody watching. House took her to her room, and it was a good thirty minutes before he returned, telling us all that she'd fallen asleep.

He walked over to the couch and sat down, putting his head in his hands.

You didn't need to be a mind reader to know what was running through his head. It was the same thing we all were thinking, when we found out what had happened. We all knew what kind of a man Vogler was, what he was capable of doing.

She survived this the first time, and sprang back - we all knew this time around, she might not be so lucky.


	10. A Plan Revealed: Allie

**A/n:** I'm not even near the end of this story, mwahaha. Thank you for the reviews, keep em' coming!

* * *

**Ch 10 - A Plan Revealed**

The light hurt my eyes as I struggled to open them.

Even though an immense feeling of grogginess was rapidly growing within, it took me naught a second to realize I had no use of my arms...or my legs. Finally coming to, I realized I was sitting up against a large pole. My hands were tied behind my back, my legs tied in front of me. A piece of cloth had been tied around my mouth as a gag. The ache in my arms was almost unbearable, I wanted nothing more than to get up and stretch. The entire thought process was even painful - my head was throbbing so bad, it brought tears to my eyes. Shaking off nausea, I forced myself to take in my surroundings.

I appeared to be in a warehouse of some type. The ceilings rose high up into the air, and each wall was composed of dirty (some broken) glass panels. Water was everywhere, dripping from rusty pipes that ran along the ceiling rafters. I'd never seen anything like this warehouse in our general area, so I assumed we must have been driving for some time.

My stomach churned once again as I thought back to the events of this afternoon.

Why did I go with him? This man, whoever he was (who didn't seem to be present at the moment), had seemed real enough. He was wearing a Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital identification...it had to be real, right? The school was suppose to verify everybody that came through their office, which is why I didn't even bother to question it. They said something was wrong with my father, so worry might have been a factor too. I remembered the way he touched my cheek and the look of pure hatred in his eyes, before he knocked me unconscious.

What the hell were the odds that I'd be kidnapped once again? This was absurd, the entire thing. I was going to get out of this, kick this guy's ass and go home...where I belonged. I'd survived this one time before, I wasn't going to let anything defeat me ever again.

I quickly took back every thought, as the door to the warehouse opened and this man entered.

One sight of the black handgun, now enclosed in his hand, was all it took to dash my hopes of getting out of here.

I struggled fiercely against my bonds, hoping that they'd magically untie themselves. No such luck - I was only rewarded with immense pain, as the wire dug into the skin covering my wrists. I tried to yell against the gag in my mouth - the man just laughed maniacally as he watched me struggle.

I closed my eyes as he approached. Surprisingly, he reached around with a pair of wire cutters, and snapped the wire that bound my wrists together. I immediately sprung into action and flung a fist right at his face. He caught my oncoming punch in his hand and twisted my arm back, pulling me off my feet and pressing the barrel of the gun to my forehead. I stopped struggling almost immediately.

"Try that one more time, and mark my words Alexandra House, I will shoot you directly in the head," he said.

* * *

He forcefully pulled me over to another pipe that stood closer to the windows lining the warehouse walls. He frequently glanced outside, and shoved me down on the ground, back against the pipe. He pulled a length of wire out of his suit pocket and put the gun into the band of his pants. I waited until he glanced out the window once more and kicked him with my bound legs, hard, in the shins. Swearing, he took a foot and swung it backwards - I closed my eyes, knowing what was coming. He kicked me directly in the ribcage, the pain so blinding that I immediately went to crumple over. Before I could do so, he pulled me up and yanked my arms around the back of the pipe - binding them with heavy wire.

The pain was so tremendous, I found myself praying to a God I'd never known, to just end my life right here and now. Hyperventilating, I tried to overcome the pain and concentrate.

I flinched as the man walked towards me, yanked the gag from my mouth, and slapped me across the face. "I told you not to try anything else you little bitch," he said.

"Who the fuck are you, and why are you doing this to me?" I managed to croak out.

The man stared at me for several seconds before speaking.

"You're telling me you have no idea who I am?" he said as I shook my head, "I am Edward Vogler...I would have thought you'd hear that name quite a few times over the years, even if you were not born till after I left the hospital."

I tried to ignore the pain for a few minutes and found myself laughing hysterically, even though the pain. As a young child - I mustn't of been more than four of five at the time - my father used to come and tell me bedtime stories. He would shove aside the storybooks my mom liked to read to me and come up with stories of his own.

For a good three months, I remember him telling me the tale of Ivy, the beautiful, talented immunologist - who's mission in the world was to do good to every patient that passed through the hospital doors. She lived in a beautiful down in New England and was hated by no one. Even the village idiot, "Chase", was loved in her eyes. Everything seemed to be going fine in her world, plenty of people to "fix" - when everything changed. Her friend, a neurologist named "pimp daddy", introduced her to the most brilliant, talented diagnostician to ever grace the New England coast. This diagnostician, who everyone called "Dr. Sexy", fell madly in love with the beautiful immunologist. Dr. Funbags who ran the hospital, had agreed to give them both time off in the event they were to be married. The beautiful immunologist and the super cool diagnostician took time off to be married, when the evil village ogre - Vogler - crashed the wedding, jealous that the beautiful Ivy would be marrying and it wouldn't be to him. He tried to wreck everything, but the brilliant diagnostician saved the day. He stuck his trusty cane so far up Vogler's ass that it came out his mouth, and killed him instantly. The beautiful immunologist and the brilliant diagnostician lived happily ever after - in a spacious mansion with their trusty butler Wilson.

Vogler - THAT'S where I'd heard that name before...I'm almost positive that my dad's stories were not just coincidence. This must be the man my Uncle Jimmy told me about - the man my dad hated more than any other - the one who'd tried to fire my dad and take over the hospital. But wait a minute...why was he kidnapping me, I'd never even met the man. It dawned on me, suddenly, and I looked up at him.

"Oh yes, I think you know very well who I am," Vogler said, listening to me laugh.

I just stared at him, not daring to even ask for details. It turns out I didn't even need to ask.

"I hated your father from the moment I laid eyes on him," he began, "the entire time I was head of that hospital, he did everything in his power to disobey my orders. I tried to get rid of him, and was overthrown. Myself and my money were thrown, useless, aside. I left that hospital, intending to go on and find another empire to rule over. I wasn't so lucky - the fact that I'd been dismissed from your father's hospital became known to every company I planned to rule over. People began to question where I'd gotten so much money - how I owned so many companies. A police investigation was opened up on a tip provided by your father, of all people. Suddenly, all the faults I've made in my career were exposed. I was completely ruined - I took what money I had left and moved away. It was your father that ruined me, and I was going to have his head for this...though I didn't know how at the time."

"Sounds like you had it coming, you big lying son of a bitch," I said, feeling a bit empowered.

He ignored me and went on.

"I kept watch over your father in the years following my ruin. I devised a plan to have your father taken out - but then I got word that Dr. Cameron had given birth to his first child. I read a newspaper article, announcing the birth of you, showing you and your parents, smiling so happily - not knowing they'd ruined my life. I realized, that I wanted to destroy every bit of happiness that they had in their lives...like they had done to me. It took me years to plan it all out, but I did it. A former colleague of mine agreed to help me with my plan. I paid David Williams $50 million dollars, out of my personal savings account, to abduct you Alexandra. What he did with you after that point was his choice...as long as you never returned to your parents ever again. He walked into the clinic that morning, suffering a bout of made up symptoms, symptoms so fully researched - I knew they would admit him. I paid off a nurse, Nurse Brenda, who had enough of your father's abuse over the years. She helped David Williams escape from the clinic before his transfer upstairs, and pointed him to your whereabouts. You were not in day care that morning...it was fate. He snatched you from your father's office and took you back to his home."

I couldn't believe it - this entire thing was planned. David didn't bring me home to replace Marie's lost child - she was in on this entire thing...she KNEW. All those times she'd muttered sad words about her lost baby, she'd been acting. All the hurt and guilt I'd felt over her death…was for absolutely nothing. She KNEW…she was just as evil as David! Oh my God...and Brenda! She'd acted like my parents friends, all these years, and went and stabbed them right in the back. This was some messed up shit, it really was.

"Why they didn't kill you, andsend the bones to your parentslike I'd suggested, is beyond me. I came by to visit them once, and realized they'd decided to keep you as their own child...keep you alive, yet secluded from the world. It was against my better judgment not to just kill you myself, but the deal was done. I gained pleasure just watching your family on the television, frantically searching for their beloved girl...taken by a madman. I watched as the years passed and the search died down - I couldn't have been happier. I watched as news of your mother's suicide attempt aired...and laughed, watching your father tried to hold your mother up in front of the television cameras. I even came to visit David and Marie one year, when you were much older...and took pleasure in knowing you were locked upstairs...away from all." he finished.

That was him, I thought to myself. The one time the doorbell had rung, it had been him. David had pushed me upstairs so hard, I'd fallen and broken my arm.

"Of course, things totally went wrong the year you turned fourteen. You managed to escape due to their own lack of security. I watched as the news revealed you'd survived David's attempts at killing you with his car. I learned that David and Marie were dead, and you were back with your family...a survivor. I knew I couldn't let this happen, let all my efforts go to waste. Watching your smiling parents as you went off to your first day of school in eight years was the final straw."

"What are you going to do with me?" I found myself asking, rather timidly, still trying to take in everything that he'd just told me.

A grin, one so wide it resembled the Cheshire cat, grew on Vogler's face. The look in his eyes was pure evil. He bent down so we were face to face, and whispered:

"We're going to wait for your father to show up," he said, "and when he does - I'm going to kill him."


	11. Developments: Wilson

**A/N: **_Should I continue with this? I haven't gotten very many reviews on the past two chapters. I seriously love constructive criticism, be it telling me to continue, or just quit while I'm ahead! Anyway, here's the update - enjoy!_

**Chapter 11 - Developments**

It's been exactly two weeks.

For the first few days after Vogler had taken Alexandra, police had swarmed the House residence - setting up a command center, and taking all leads on the case from the phone bank they'd set up. Allison had appeared with House, briefly, on the news the night of the kidnapping, pleading for any information about Edward Vogler and his whereabouts - and above all the safe return of their daughter. It was heartbreaking to see the bags under Allison's eyes, the weariness of my best friend and the panic in their voices. Cuddy had given the team time off (the rest of the diagnostic department was more than qualified to take over temporarily) and we spent hours at House's place, answering phones and helping out in any way possible.

Allison was now a shell of a human being. The first time this happened, she would at least talk to people...reassure them that she was still functioning, though deeply scarred by the incident. It was scary to look into her eyes this time, and see the spark gone. The joy that made up Allison Cameron was now replaced by an empty, hollow look. She spent the past two weeks in the bedroom, clutching a photo of Allie - either asleep, or staring blankly into space. It was up to her friends and family to make sure she continued on with her most basic needs. Her parents came briefly, and then left...unable to bear the heartache in their youngest daughter's eyes. House was furious at his in laws for abandoning her in her time of need, but was too distraught to properly yell at them. We took turns sitting with Allison, an overpowering sense of deja vu setting it...it was less than a year ago, we'd all done the same thing - all leading up to her suicide attempt.

House was a complete mess. Since I've known him, he's never let anything touch him. Always one to brush aside his feelings, he'd rather joke around than face up to the actual truth of the situation. It was just last night, head buried in his hands while sitting at the dining room table, that he explained he knew nothing else to do but place Allison in the psychiatric hospital. He already lost his daughter, he didn't want to lose the only other person he's ever loved. It was hard to hear, but the best decision that could be done...considering the circumstances.

It was strange how things can be so perfect, and be taken away in the blink of an eye.

* * *

It was fifteen days after Vogler had taken my god daughter, that I received the phone call.

I had gone back to work for the day, hoping to catch up one some paperwork, my days at work being sporadic over the past few weeks. I was working on a chart when my cell phone started to ring. I put down the chart and glanced at the caller identification, which was flashing "unknown number." I picked it up out of pure curiosity, and answered.

"Hello?" I asked.

There was the sound of heavy breathing into the phone, and nothing more.

"HELLO?" I repeated again.

"Uncle Jimmy...help," came the breathless reply.

I almost dropped the cell phone.

"Allie? Where are you...oh my God. Allie?" I yelled into the cell.

"Warehouse...it hurts," she said, somewhat slurred.

"Allie, come on, talk to me...Allie stay with me!" I yelled, rather frantically into the phone, as I heard a loud slam.

The last thing I heard before the line went dead, was the unmistakable voice of Edward Vogler. He yelled something, and I heard a sickening thud, before the line went dead.

I'd dropped all of my paperwork, grabbed my cell phone and left my office.

I ran through the halls of the hospital, running into people along the way, yet making no attempt at excusing myself. On the ground floor I ran into Cuddy, and ignored everything she asked me. I charged out the front doors, into the parking garage and into my car. The loud screech of the tires was hear through the parking garage, as I threw my BMW into reverse and then drive.

I arrived at House's place twenty minutes later and sped up the driveway to the main house.

I let myself in and found the first police officer, and told her exactly what had happened. I handed over my cell phone to the police and watched as their presence grew in the house. They tried to trace the phone call, to no avail. I gave my statement and went over what happened in my office countless times. The look of pure anger in Greg's eyes grew as I told him what I'd heard. The police took all the information that they needed and most of them left - assuring us they were going to start a search of all the local warehouses in the Princeton area. They asked that we remain here at home, in case we received anymore phone calls from Allie or her kidnapper.

Myself, Greg, Chase and Eric sat down in the living room and kept our voices low (Allison was sleeping) and discussed the latest developments.

"I swear to God, when I get my hands on the man I'm going to kill him," House said. We all could only nod...our hatred of the man completely shared. Even Chase, who'd sold Greg out to Vogler, was completely sympathetic. He'd grown to love Allie like his own daughter the past few months and was just as distraught as the rest of us when Vogler had taken her. It was completely unbelievable that something like this could happen so many years after he'd left the hospital - that his hatred of Greg had been this tremendous.

It was a few moments later when I found myself remembering something. Just a month ago, I read in the papers that a town twenty miles north had been complaining about the state of the old warehouses left behind by one of Vogler's companies. The town considered them an eyesore, and was worried about children sneaking into the condemned buildings to play. The bank of six warehouses had sat abandoned for three years, and were now completely infested with vermin, windows broken and were generally unstable. What if he had taken Allie there? Allie had mentioned a warehouse, and Vogler had ties to these ones in particular.

"I know where Vogler has taken Allie," I said out loud.

All eyes turned to me, as I explained what I remembered reading in the paper.

Greg stood up suddenly, and asked if we'd all like to partake in a great big ass kicking, and get his daughter back. I told him we should tell the police, but he flat out said, he wanted to kill the man himself. I told him the location of these warehouses and he said to grab your coat - we're leaving. Standing in the entryway, he made a call to the next door neighbors, asking one of them to please come over and look after Allison, we had an errand to run. The neighbor graciously agreed and we left, knowing Allison would be safe under the care of a friend.

What we didn't see, was the figure standing atop the stairs the entire time. Nor did we see said figure rush down the stairs, moments after we exited Greg's place, hop into her car and set off right behind us.


	12. Idiot: Allie

**A/N: **_Thank you for the positive feedback - I feel better about continuing with this, knowing people are actually enjoying it! This chapter is just filler, but I figured I should add it, as it's the last time you're going to hear the story from Allie's POV. There's about six more chapters left before the end..._

**Chapter 12 - Idiot**

To keep myself from losing my sanity, I made lists.

Favorite television shows, favorite foods, friends I've made since returning home, memories from childhood, number of restraining orders issued against my dad...

The lists went on and on, and they gave me something to overcome what I was currently going through - something that makes Dante's hell look like a holiday in the Bahamas. The Bahamas were sounding pretty nice, considering for the past two weeks I was subject to a great big unintelligent baboon - marching around, treating me like shit and feeling the need to put down my dad every second possible.

I had to laugh though…some of these stories he was telling me were absolutely hilarious. I would have liked to see my dad and Vogler in the same room - these stories were classic. Every time I laughed at one of his stories, Vogler issued a kick in my general direction. Pissing him off was worth it.

I spent the first two days alone, bound and gagged...in some tiny room off the north side of the warehouse. Vogler would only untie me long enough to let me use the bathroom and he'd tie me right back up. Water and small amounts of food came if I was lucky. I found myself drinking out of tap I found on the other side of the pipe he tethered me to - if I pulled off an almost contortion like move, I could get a few mouthfuls of cold water at a time. I guess he was too stupid to realize he'd placed me right next to it, I learned quickly upon the second week that it was not on his list of cares if I lived or died.

* * *

It was on the second week of my personal hell, that I was able to fight back. It was also the second week that the violence started. 

He'd untied me and lifted me up on day eight, intending on leading me to the bathroom.

One of the pipes in the warehouse had given off a rather loud creak, when Vogler turned to look, gun drawn.

I waited until he'd turned around, barely holding on to me, before issuing a giant kick right in his crotch.

He yelled and fell over, clutching his family jewels, and screaming - the gun and other object he'd been holding went flying through the air. I took one look at the gun lying on the ground and went for it.

I wasted no time and lunged toward it as fast as I could. Vogler sprang off the ground and attempted to tackle me from behind. I gave him an elbow to the face and screamed as he flipped me over and I landed on the concrete floor of the warehouse. I was ready to attack him again, ignoring the fact that my head felt like it was ready to explode, when he reached the gun before me.

Knowing I stood no chance against a gun, especially since my hands were tied together, I started to run. For a self proclaimed "tough guy," who's so smart, he isn't very bright. You would have thought he'd remember to tie my feet up? Either way, I ran for the door as fast as I could.

I had just reached the doorway when the shot rang out. It took me a whole minute before I realized what had happened.

"You fucking BASTARD!" I screamed, "If you didn't have a gun I swear to God I'd kill your stupid ass!"

He laughed in my general direction, as I fell to the ground -pain increasing. Vogler wasted no time in grabbing me forcefully off the ground and tying me back up to the pipe the best he could, as I was issuing kicks to him with my good leg.

"If I can't kill your father yet, you're the next best thing," he said to me, before he issued a blow to my head with the barrel of the gun.

* * *

He disappeared as I moaned to myself. Not only was my head now spinning madly, I now had a gunshot wound to the leg to worry about. The bastard shot me directly in the leg I'd worked so hard at physical therapy to fix. A bullet hole now graced the area right above my knee, blood slowly pouring out. A quick survey of the damage revealed that the bullet was more than likely still lodged in the muscle - there was no exit wound. The bleeding wasn't too bad, but the pain was almost unbearable - no doubt the bullet had landed and ripped apart muscle. I took my good leg and pressed it over the hole in my other leg, trying to prevent any more bleeding. I had no idea what I was going to do. I could yell as loud as I wanted, since he'd left me un-gagged, but the chances that somebody in this highly deserted area would hear me...they weren't very good.

I leaned my head back against the pipe and took a few deep breaths, trying to control my breathing.

It's when I opened them, that my vision fell to the small silver object lying not one foot away from the pipe. I started laughing uncontrollably.

"What an IDIOT...what a total idiot," I said quietly to myself.

Though it hurt like hell, I leaned sideways and found myself face to face withVogler'scell phone.

I tried to use my nose to dial, and grimaced as it shifted on the floor. This was my one chance...and I couldn't lose it.

I used my tongue to dial the first phone number that came to mind...someone who was sure to actually answer.

* * *

My uncle Jimmy picked up on the second ring.

I was growing more and more dizzy by the moment, but I managed to mumble a few words to him. I told him I was in a warehouse when the door swung open. Vogler stormed inside and stepped on the cell phone.

He slapped me in the face, grinned and brought his leg up in the air. I closed my eyes and let loose a blood curdling scream as he brought his foot down upon the wound on my upper leg - smashing it into the ground.

Once again I was sent spiraling into the land of darkness.


	13. What We Found: Chase

**A/N:**_ I love cliffhangers, don't you? Don't worry, I managed to catch myself up on my summer coursework, so the next update will come sometime this weekend. I refuse to go outside in the Southern California heat, so it'll be perfect to stay home and write. Though I may have to go check out downtown, as the Universal trucks are rumored to be in the area - I will spontaneously combust if they happen to be filming House (though I think it's still too early for season three filming)._

_Random bit of information:The stadium scene in "Sports Medicine" (which included the infamous House/Cam monster truck rally scene) was filmed literally two blocks from my apartment building! My town isin LAbut a less busy suburb that has the ability to pose as a million different cities...they're ALWAYS filming something here! Too bad I hadn't started watching the show yet when they filmed it! LOL, okay I'm getting carried away here. Read, review and enjoy!_

**Ch 13 - What We Found**

I'm not quite sure how I got roped into into this plan. I told House he was going to get himself killed, why not call the police and give them the possible lead?

I got the look - the one he'd mastered over the years, the one that screams, "DO YOU REALLY WANT TO DISAGREE WITH ME?" - and I just silenced myself, and agreed to go with them. I figured House just wanted to kick Vogler's ass himself. Come to think of it the police were not in any hurry to listen to our possible leads about Vogler's whereabouts - just last week they'd completely blown Foreman's idea off and went about their own investigation.

* * *

I just couldn't believe that Vogler had done something this drastic. I know the guy was evil, but I didn't really think he hated House THAT much, to go and steal his only daughter years later. I also found myself wondering how I could have acted the way I did, when Vogler ran the hospital? It's true testimony to how immature I was in those days - always looking to get ahead, not caring whom I hurt in the process. I sold House out to Vogler for my own personal gain. 

House loves to torment me about it to this day, but I think he knows I do care. I've come to love Allie like my own child. With that, I've also realized my fears of having a family of my own could be significantly calmed. House and Allison trusted me with their only daughter and often called upon me to baby sit (okay, maybe House blackmailed me into it) and I always looked forward to hearing Allie scream, "UNCLE CHASE!" and come running at me full force.

I haven't told anybody yet, but I'm in the process of adopting a child of my own. I suppose I have House, Allison and their daughter to thank for that. I will thank them when I get the chance. I pray I get the chance.

* * *

Wilsonfound anextra copy of the news article online and we set off from House's place. This article was published months ago, but gave us the direct location of Vogler's warehouses.

We sat in relative silence the entire hour it took to drive up the highway.

Wilson was driving, for fear that House would run us all off the road. He drove slightly above the speed limit, while House sat in the passenger seat...completely silent. He rested his head against the window and kept looking at his watch...as if he knew his daughter's time was already running out. Foreman and I sat in the back seat, staring at each other silently - not really sure that words would be appropriate, taken the current situation. I kept my fears to myself, knowing the dark images I held in my head would do nothing but give House a reason to kick my ass. I stared silently out the window, watching the sky darken and the windshield become moistened with a light drizzle. It was if the sky sensed the mood of the car's occupants.

An hour later, around four o'clock in the afternoon, Wilson broke the silence and told us this was the off ramp we'd need to take. We drove down a deserted road lined with pine trees - just a single paved lane in each direction. In the distance, if you looked closely, you could make out the outline of a bank of warehouses. Approaching them, the SUV crept to a crawl...if they were here, we didn't want to announce that we were coming. The area was virtually deserted. Two minutes ago, there was only a single car far behind us, and those headlights had disappeared about one hundred yards back, as we stopped fifty yards from the warehouse area.

* * *

As we all got out of the car, the sky opened up and started pissing rain - which issued a "damn" from House. 

Slowly, we all walked along the edge of the highway, stopping at a large graphitized sign reading "VOGLER INDUSTRIES"

We hid behind the large sign and peered over, seeing no cars parked in front of the first three warehouses. We all walked up to the first warehouse and quietly went inside. The entire warehouse was composed of a single floor, the ceiling stretching at least fifty feet up to the broken skylights. Pipes ran along the walls and puddles were everywhere. There was obviously nobody present in this warehouse in particular. We waited to make sure no one was outside before leaving and walking the few yards to the next warehouse.

The second warehouse was the same as the first, only the three tiny office rooms off the north side of the warehouse were completely empty...sans a rusted desk that looked like it had seen better days. Walking out of the warehouse, we spied a rusted over metal sign, featuring a picture of Vogler pointing and the caption, "I WANT YOU, TO DO A GOOD JOB!" House mumbled something under his breath that I don't care to repeat and gave the sign a giant poke with his cane.

Upon approaching the third warehouse, we all stopped. When we heard the unmistakable echo of somebody crying over the sound of the rain, we all ran as fast as we could towards the door. We entered in a hurry and looked around.

Upon first glance, the warehouse was divided into two separate rooms. Like the first two, the ceiling was composed of broken window skylights and pipes ran everywhere. It was freezing and large puddles of water littered the concrete floor.

We entered the second room and all stopped at the same time. What we found was one of the most sickening sights I've ever seen.

* * *

Allie was bound against a large pipe along the west side of the warehouse. Puddles of water sat all around her, tinted dark red from her blood.

We all ran over and crouched around her, Wilson reaching over and taking her pulse. She was whimpering, burning up despite the freezing temperatures and overall disoriented - and she appeared to be unconscious, though the rapid eye movement under her closed eyelids suggested otherwise. House just stood there as we all tried to assess the rest of the damage...almost in disbelief that we'd actually found her, and that she was alive.

Closer look showed that she was bruised over at least half of her body. One side of her face showed the unmistakable signs of a gun barrel, dark bruising up the side of her face. Lifting up her auburn hair, lacerations along the base of her skull came into view. The front of her neck had bruises across both sides that bore the sickening resemblance to a pair of hands. Foreman swore under his breath and Wilson looked so unlike I'd ever seen him - completely frightened. Upon discovering a bullet hole in her leg, we all went silent. Displaying no exit wound, the bullet was obviously still lodged in her leg. Perhaps most frightening of all, were the dark red streaks encircling the entrance wound and shooting up her leg. Septic shock - we'd all seen it more than enough times in our career.

A loud bolt of thunder rang through the sky as I got up enough nerve to ask House if he was just going to stand there, or help us out with his daughter? I received silence and turned away from Allie to face House.

The thunder must have blocked the sound of the door being flung open, because Vogler now stood behind House - a gun aimed directly at the back of his head.


	14. So Quickly: Foreman

**A/N: **_It's 95 degrees outside - if this keeps up I won't be moving from the confinement of my apartment. I need to move to Alaska, or Scotland or someplace that doesn't normally get temperatures above 80 degrees. Of course there's nothing else to do either, so I might even get this story finished this weekend. I lied - there's about four more chapters left...I will try and make them long ones though. Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy!_

**Ch 14 - So Quickly**

She was alive - in serious condition - but most importantly, alive.

I will never forget the look on House's face as he saw his daughter lying there. We'd taken bets over the years to see if House was capable of human emotion, but this time was different. The look on his face was indescribable - he was completely crushed. He stood there looking at Allie, as Wilson, Chase and I hovered around, trying to assess the damage Vogler had inflicted. We were unraveling the wire around her wrists when I heard Chase ask House if he was just going to stand there. Chase went silent, and we heard him clear his throat.

* * *

We all turned around and came face to face with Vogler, a black handgun aimed directly at the back of House's head. 

"Get up - NOW," Vogler said to all of us.

We all stood up. Casting one more glance at Allie, I became worried - she was stirring and looked like she was going to regain consciousness at any second. The last thing I wanted her to wake up to see was her rescuers, now in danger of being killed.

Vogler kept the gun aimed to the back of House's head and told him to walk slowly towards his daughter and sit down next to her. House complied, still completely silent.

Vogler then turned towards all of us and told us to get out. We just stood there staring. I noticed Chase had his hands in his pockets the entire time, he seemed to be attempting to do something within them, making almost unnoticeable movements.

"I SAID GET OUT," Vogler said, even more enraged. He walked over Allie, who was now in the process of opening her eyes, and held the gun barrel to her forehead. It was heartbreaking to see the look on her face as she opened her eyes, and saw the gun aimed directly into her frontal lobe. She glanced at her father sitting next to her, a look of pure fear on his face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she reached over and weakly grabbed House's hand.

Knowing we were now putting both their lives in danger, we all filed out of the warehouse.

* * *

We stayed close to the edges and found a big crack that we could peer through, and watch what was going on. Chase grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and walked a few yards away, now talking quietly to whoever was on the other end. He hung up and walked back towards us. 

I was instantly thankful, when Chase quietly revealed that he'd called 911 from his cell phone while inside the warehouse - he'd had it on speed dial and managed to call without Vogler noticing. The police and SWAT team were on their way, they said to keep out of the way until then. We nodded and turned our attention back to the warehouse.

* * *

Vogler was marching around Greg and Allie, who were now sitting side by side on the floor. Allie had her head leaning on House's shoulder and looked like she desperately fighting the battle to stay conscious. 

"You must know why this happened?" Vogler asked House, pacing back and forth directly in front of him.

"Oh I don't know...maybe it was giving you away to the police, knowing full well you were full of shit? Or maybe it's just because I NEVER LIKED YOU - you're so smart, why don't you tell me?" House replied.

"You ruined me. Your ruined my business...and sent me spiraling into a financial depression - I hated you from the moment I laid eyes on you, only this time I chose to do something about it." Vogler said.

"Yeah, that twenty million you gave the Williams in exchange for kidnapping my daughter just showed you were strapped for cash," House said.

"Taking every bit of happiness away from a miserable bastard like you was worth it," Vogler answered back.

"Asshole," I heard Allie mumble. Vogler looked at her angrily and House just grinned.

Vogler walked up to House and kicked him directly in his injured leg. House swore and fell sideways into his daughter in pain. Vogler just looked at both of them and laughed.

It took a few minutes, but House somehow managed to regain the ability to sit upright, even though he clutched his leg and showed obvious signs of extreme pain. They continued their verbal spar back and forth against each other, when we noticed Allie staring at us. She'd seen us watching the confrontation the hole in the warehouse wall.

Suddenly, Vogler turned and looked directly at us. Allie, bless her heart, summoned enough strength to pull herself off the floor and throw a weak punch directly at Vogler. Vogler turned quickly, grabbed her by the throat and threw her with his full force, back up against the pipe she's been tethered to. She lost consciousness immediately and now lied deathly pale at the foot of the pipe.

At this precise moment, the sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance. Vogler swore and turned to the now standing House. He raised the gun barrel and brought it up to House, point blank range.

"Goodbye Greg," he said.

* * *

The events that happened next, happened so quickly, it shocked the hell out of all of us. 

The three of us had not seen the fourth pair of eyes, watching the entire confrontation from behind a shrub - not ten feet away from us.

Allison Cameron appeared from behind the bush, wielding a large hunting knife, a look on intense anger in her previously empty eyes.

She lunged towards the warehouse door, determination obvious. Wilson spied her at the last minute and attempted to tackle her, yelling at her to stop befpre she did something she would regret.

It didn't work. Allison charged into the warehouse.

It was hard to hear what she yelled due to the fact that the police were now just moments away from the warehouses - the sirens were loud...overpowering the air that previously held the sound of thunder - but it sounded like she yelled he wasn't going to take away the only things that had ever made her happy.

Vogler lowered the gun he had aimed at House and turned, in time to see Allison launch the hunting knife through the air, directly at him - he had a look of complete shock on his face.

Five shots rang out that very moment, and we all stared in horror as Allison fell to the ground.

Vogler stumbled towards the wall, the hunting knife lodged into his arm, swearing loudly. He raised the gun again, only this time went for Allie, bringing the gun up and seconds from pulling the trigger. Greg had collapsed on the floor next to Allison, and was just sitting there, staring.

At that very moment, we were all thrust aside, our jaws hanging on the floor, as the SWAT team rushed the warehouse, firing at Edward Vogler.


	15. An Ongoing Battle: Wilson

**A/N:**_ I was planning to have the next part up this weekend! I didn't intend to wait this long, but an unfortunate flare up of a pesky problem prevented it (did you know they'll refuse to take out your tonsils if you don't have insurance? Pfft). Instead, I spent the majority of Saturday night in the emergency room, but was completely thrilled as the hours I'd spent playing "Differential Diagnosis" on myself actually worked. The flare up hurt worse than usual so I knew it was something related, but more. The look on the residents face when I told him what I'd suggested was one of total disbelief. After the tests, his look changed significantly and I think my exact works were, "YOU GOT PWNED!" _

_Payback was them shoving a large needle into my throat. I'm okay now though...so: Me: 1, Resident: 0! I like storytime. Anyway, read and review...tis my longest chapter of the story thus far! There's only a few chapters left, but I won't have the next one up till later in the week I'm afraid. Something about an evil english teacher who didn't like my thesis and me...who's hot tempered and highly skilled in the art of procrastination, tells me I should complete my essay and put the fic aside till it's done. ENJOY!_

****

**Ch 15 - An Ongoing Battle**

I tried to stop her, and failed miserably.

None of us had known Allison followed us to the warehouse. If only one of us had gone to check on her once more before leaving, this wouldn't of happened. If only the neighbor had gotten to the house sooner, if only the school had bothered to verify the credibility of Vogler before releasing Allie... The "what if" game is one of the deadliest, and in this situation - could be played for hours. Of course that game does nothing to change things, it's played to make the person at fault feel better for whatever wrong-doing they've just committed. I was trying desperately to make myself feel better for not being able to stop Allison, as she charged into that warehouse, desperate to save at least one of the two people she loved the most.

The sounds of sirens in the air gave myself, Foreman and Chase a reason to sigh with relief, as we watched Vogler aim his gun at House. House would fight back and give the police the extra minute they needed to swarm and kill the bastard who caused this all - this would turn out a success story. We stood in complete silence (and shock) as Allison came running out of a nearby bush, having watched the entire ordeal unfold - now making the ultimate sacrifice of her life, to save two lives in return. The police were entering the general area of the warehouse (we could even see the police units and swat team at this point) when Allison burst in and surprised the hell out of Vogler, throwing a knife at him full force.

Time stood still as Vogler aimed the gun towards Allison and fired five shots directly at her.

Allison had fallen to the ground immediately, the color red rapidly soaking the area around her, staining the concrete. Not two seconds later, we were pushed aside as the swat team stormed the warehouse, bringing Vogler down as he aimed the gun once more at the lifeless body of my god daughter.

* * *

I pushed past Foreman and Chase, almost frantically and right past the police, to get inside the warehouse.

Foreman and Chase stood in the doorway, I assume in too much shock to say anything, for a few moments before rushing over to attend to Allie - the paramedics were moments behind the police and due to arrive at any moment. I simply stood and watched as House dropped to the floor. He was cradling Allison in his arms, a look of panic in his eyes. He had removed his blazer and was now using it to attempt to stop the release of blood from a wound in her chest and abdomen.

"Don't leave me. Damn it Allison, I need you...I need you..." were the only words I heard him say in a low voice.

A moment later the emergency crews entered and focused their attention on Allison and Allie. It was seconds before they realized they'd have to airlift both of them to hospital, they were too worried by their injuries to transport them by ambulance.

House stood up and watched as they loaded Allison onto a stretcher. He looked at me briefly before I told him to go with Allison, I'd stay with Allie. With a look of thanks he hurried out of the warehouse and climbed into the waiting helicopter, who was going to take Allison to the nearest hospital by air with a trauma unit - which just happened to be Princeton-Plainsboro.

I focused my attention on Allie and went to see how things were going.

The paramedics placed her onto a backboard - one was checking vitals while the other held an oxygen mask over her mouth, attempting to deliver life sustaining oxygen to her lungs...something she was losing the ability to do herself. Foreman and Chase were talking to the police and told me to go with Allie, they'd be right behind me the second they finished giving their reports about what had happened. I nodded and raced alongside the paramedics as they exited the warehouse. I watched as the helicopter holding Allison exited the area, and as another arrived and landed a few yards off, waiting to take it's next occupant off for a another shot at life.

* * *

The ride in the helicopter was much to say, eventful.

Overcoming the immense sense of deja vu (what kind of person has to go through something this sickening twice in life?), I held my god daughters hand and tried hard to put the worst case scenario out of my head. As if reading my mind, the deja vu Gods reached a decision that they hated me. Monitors started to wail as she went into cardiac arrest.

She was already unconscious, but loss of pulse and blood pressure were now added to the mix. It took two shocks with the defibrillator before they regained a steady rhythm. I didn't even get out a sigh of relief before another monitor started to wail - her oxygen levels decreasing at an even faster speed. They intubated, placing an ambu bag over the intubation tube - releasing air into her lungs, sending the monitor back into relative silence. One of the life flight crew asked if I'd like to deliver oxygen with the bag at the required intervals, but I declined politely...realizing how much my hands were shaking at the moment.

Things settled down as we approached Princeton-Plainsboro, the trauma unit team the size of ants on the sidewalk - waiting in their plastic gowns, gloves and glasses...waiting for trauma number two of the hour.

We slowly approached the landing pad and set down with a gentle thud.

Moments later the waiting team rushed Allie off the landing pad, into the elevator and down to the rest of the team, waiting in the emergency room's trauma unit.

I've been a doctor for years - I was plenty accustomed to the sight of blood and all things most people get squeamish at. One look at my shirt, now covered in the blood of my god daughter...and I went running to the side of the roof, losing myself to the nausea.

* * *

When I gained some composure, I went down to my office and grabbed the bag of clothes I kept handy. As a doctor, you learn early on that an overnight bag is a must...things happen that are completely uncalled for - decrease in health of patients, emergencies that require overnight stays, being peed on (or as House once put it - losing another wife and needing to live in your office) - a change of clothes is always necessary.

I went down to the locker room, showered, changed and felt a bit better.

I then went to the emergency room to check on the fate of the mother and daughter - fighting side by side for their lives.

Upon request, a nurse told me that Allison had been whisked off to surgery. She had gone into cardiac arrest six times before they regained a slight rhythm and were able to move her to surgery. She also told me House had been a complete asshole to everyone, yelling and ordering people around and wanting to do the entire job himself - furious that no one would let him near enough to treat her. He'd finally retreated as Cuddy dragged him out of the trauma unit, and stood silently at the glass doors, watching as the team tried to stabilize her enough for surgery. When they'd succeeded, he and Cuddy had rushed upstairs to the surgical floor - they were going to supervise the surgery from the observation lounge.

I nodded - not knowing what else to say.

The nurse led me into another one of the trauma rooms and that's where I found Allie.

Doctor Wolfe, a specialist in pediatric emergency medicine, came up silently beside me. I was going to ask him to give me her chart, but instead asked him how bad it was.

"She's lucky, very lucky - considering the circumstances," he started, "She's sustained bruising to at least 60 of her body, as well as lacerations around the wrists due to the wire Vogler used to tie her up. She's got four broken ribs, two of them displaced, which led to the collapse of her right lung. We were able to get it re-inflated, no problems. A CT scan ruled out any intracranial bleeding and just mild swelling - the bruising to her head suggested it would be much worse...she's very lucky. She regained consciousness right before we sent her to radiology, but went back out from the pain medication we administered. She remembered what had happened, but seemed a bit confused upon asking her the date and some other basic questions - a mild concussion at my guess. She also suffered a fracture in her cheekbone due to the gun barrel Vogler hit her with. It's non-displaced, so it should heal just fine."

He paused, and I closed my eyes...knowing the worst was coming.

"The most serious of her injuries was caused by the bullet wound to her leg. She sat for days without medical attention and the bullet wound became infected...she's in septic shock. We're administering massive doses of antibiotics that will clear up the infection, but the damage has already been done. We are waiting on surgery to come and collect her - we are going to need to amputate her leg, a few inches above the knee. There is massive death of tissue in the surrounding areas - should she pull through this, it's the only way she'd ever be able to use her leg without a lifetime of severe pain."

I nodded, thinking of the life House led - not wishing that for anybody. I looked down as he opened her charts and saw Greg's signature signed at the bottom of some consent forms. I knew he didn't want it for her either.

"There's ...more," the doctor continued.

I stared at him, wondering what more there could be - this was suppose to be the worst of her injuries.

"She's received significant damage to her kidneys due to the septic shock," he said quietly.

At that moment, a team of doctors came downstairs to take Allie up to pre-op. The team whisked her away and I exited the trauma room - not even wanting to hear what the doctor had to say next.

This nightmare was spiraling completely out of control. I wanted to crawl into bed, sleep for a few hours and wake up hoping it had all been nothing but a dream. Reality is reality though, and I knew I'd not get my wish. Instead, I headed upstairs to the conference room, figuring I'd see if Chase and Foreman had arrived back yet, and tell them the news...bad as it was. I didn't even know Allison's condition yet.

* * *

It turns out that I didn't need to wait long. House was sitting at Allison's desk in the conference room, head buried in his hands. Upon hearing me enter, he looked up at me. I started to ask him the most obvious question and he just shook his head.

I stared at him and said softly, "No..."

He nodded again and picked up a photo Allison kept on her desk. I walked over and stood behind him, as his finger traced over the thin layer of glass. It was like the simple motion would bring him back fifteen years, to the moment it was taken. He continued to trace over the smiling face of Allison, clinging onto an annoyed looking House comically, as they both stood next to Gravedigger...green souvenir hats atop both of their heads. I said no to him again, and he nodded.

Allison Cameron-House had just lost the battle for her life.


	16. Home: House

**A/N: **_I would have had this up yesterday, only the document manager is acting completely screwy. Thanks to user "imloopy" for showing me the way around the problem! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, and I'm sorry I made some of you cry, lol. I love angst! _

_There's still one more chapter coming after this one, so don't let the ending convince you otherwise. This is my longest chapter yet, going well over 2,000 words! Read, review and enjoy! _

**Ch 16 - Home**

I've been practicing medicine well over thirty years.

During those thirty years I've been the hand that reaches in and stops death. I've witnessed miraculous recoveries...and a lot of death. I survived a life changing operation and came out more of a jackass than I went in with. I pushed people away, treated them harshly and told myself I'd never let a person break the carefully constructed barrier I'd spent years building - it worked for me. I made a career out of being unhappy.

Then she came along.

"_Hello Dr. House, it's wonderful to meet you - my name is Dr. Allison Cameron_," were the first words she ever spoke to me - hand extended.

I remember looking at Wilson, that eager puppy dog look in his eyes - silently pleading at me to hire this girl. I remember looking at him and making some wise ass joke about what his current wife would think if she were here right now - Dr. Cameron watching intently the whole time, a look of amusement in her eyes. I remember looking at her and thinking, "Why not? She'll be fun to look at!" What I didn't tell anybody at the time, and wouldn't admit had my life depended on it...was that I was attracted to her the moment I laid eyes on her.

The look in her eyes as I told her she was hired, was one that would haunt me for the rest of my life. She looked directly into my eyes and smiled - I believe she knew from that moment on… we would have a long history together.

* * *

_"I'm uh. Do you like monster trucks?" _

_"I don't know what they are."_

_"Right, I got two tickets...Friday night."_

_"You asking me to go with you?"_

_"Sure, sounds good."_

_"Like a date?"_

_"Exactly...except for the date part."_

She was the only person to break down the barriers and bring me back to the world of the living...the world of the feeling. It was a world I thought I'd lost so many years ago, as I laid in a hospital bed, facing a life filled with pain.

I sat at her desk, holding the photo - the photo that signaled the starting point to a life changed. I ran my fingers over the image of the two of us, remembering every detail from that night...

_"What is that?" _

_"Don't tell me you've never seen a digital camera before?"_

_"I know what it IS...what you have it OUT for is what I'm wondering?"_

_"We have to have a photo House, this is my first monster truck rally!"_

_"Might be your last if you don't put that thing away..."_

She'd pulled me over to a spot in front of Gravedigger and told me to wait right there. Snagging down the first person that walked by, she asked if he'd mind taking a photo of us. Happily agreeing, the man grabbed her digital camera and Allison walked back over to me. I remember the complete shock as she threw her arms around my shoulders, her leg popping up backwards - a big comical smile upon her face.

I ran my fingers over the glass again and smiled to myself, spying the annoyance I'd faked as she posed for the photo. It had been a perfect night...I'm glad she thought to document it in some way. We'd gone back to her place after the truck rally...she invited me up for coffee and we spent two hours talking about work. She never once pressured me to talk about anything not pertaining to work - so unlike the woman she was at the hospital. Allison outside of work was a whole new experience.

I placed the photo back onto the desk and picked up another. With hollow emotion, I stared at the picture of myself asleep on my office lounge chair. My little girl, only four years old at the time, was asleep in my arms. A huge medical text lay open on my lap - Alexandra had come to me that day, begging to learn about some disease in particular...I can't remember which one, but she wouldn't leave me alone till I'd pulled out a book to show her. Two pages into it, she'd fallen asleep - clutching the ridiculous stuffed brain with eyes Foreman had given her on her last birthday. I don't even remember Allison taking this photo. I just remember...

I dropped the photo back onto the desk and pushed it away before my thoughts ran away with me. I needed to stop doing this to myself.

I was going to get up and leave when I spotted another photo, perched atop Allison's bookshelf. I pulled it down and sat forcefully into her desk chair.

It was a picture from our wedding day - the both of us standing together upon a bridge...a beautiful waterfall in the background, cascading into a pond filled with lazily swimming fish.

I hardly recognized myself…I was actually smiling. Allison looked absolutely beautiful - I remember how my breathing faltered when she appeared at the end of the aisle, 'Greensleeves' playing softly in the background. I remember standing next to Wilson at the front of the aisle, thinking from this point on...my past was history. She'd chosen me - brought me out of the darkness and into the light. I had begun to change, and according to Wilson - they'd all noticed it. The kicker? I hadn't cared at all.

That light had since disappeared. The darkness was once again overpowering...

I looked at the photo again, anger brewing and running quickly through my veins.

Ipitched the heavy metal frame with the photo across the room with all of my strength, watching as it flew through the air. I barely cared as it smacked the glass wall in front of me, shattering it. I barely cared as a crowd grew outside the office door, or as Cuddy walked over the glass and into the office. I kept my head in my hands and barely flinched as Cuddy walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

Jumpingup out of the seat andleaving the office, I couldn't have cared less about the broken glass on the floor.

As far as I was concerned, those broken shards lying all over the hallway floor - resembled my life.

* * *

I went up to the roof and stood at the edge, watching as the moon rose over Princeton.

It was only three hours ago that I stood in the operating room observation lounge, watching as they repaired the massive damage to my wife's frail body. Two gunshots to the lower abdomen, two to the right upper quadrant...and one to the back of her neck.

I stood at that window, watching - only pausing as a nurse from the downstairs emergency room entered.

My thoughts ran a mile a minute as she updated me on the condition of my daughter. Various cuts and bruises, a mild concussion...those would all heal in time. The real kicker was when the nurse told me about the most serious of her injuries.

Sepsis had set in, resulting from Vogler's gunshot wound to her leg and no immediate medical attention. Massive tissue death - they could try and remove the dead tissue and let her keep her leg, or remove it at the knee...which was her best chance for survival without a life full of pain. Cruel irony - as if I didn't have enough to deal with at the moment, I found myself making a decision I found scarily familiar.

I asked the nurse to give me a few moments alone to think (okay, I ordered her out).

Was this what Stacy had gone through? What would Allie want? Could I trust a fourteen year old to make a decision like this? If I didn't give them permission, would she turn into a miserable cripple like me? I took a quick look at my life, and realized I didn't want that for Allie. I wanted her to have the best chance at life possible...not to be in pain the rest of it - I wanted her to really LIVE.

The nurse came back a moment later, and handed me the clipboard. I looked out the observation lounge window and back at the clipboard. I scrawled my name on the signature line, and handed it back to the nurse. I didn't want to admit it to myself at the time...but looking down at my own leg, I now realized why Stacy did what she did. Maybe some day I'd even thank her for it.

Monitors whining and the frenzied scurry of surgeons and nurses brought me back from my thoughts.

I watched as surgeons frantically tried to control the bleeding that was now overpowering them. I watched as they brought the paddles to Allison's heart, trying desperately to restart it. I watched for forty-five minutes exactly, as they repeated this routine, trying to bring her back. I watched as Cuddy entered the room and stood next to me, just in time to see the surgeons pull the white sheet over Allison and call her time of death.

Bringing myself back into the present once more, I stared up into the night sky...silently pleading for some sign that everything was going to be alright.

Dark clouds chose that very moment to move in front of the moon…bringing everything into a cloud of darkness.

* * *

It was well after three in the morning when I stepped out of the elevators with Wilson, headed up to the Intensive Care Unit.

It was only months ago that I'd taken this same walk, headed to see the daughter I'd lost so many years ago. Things fell eerily silent as I walked down the hospital hallway, walking towards Chase, who was standing in the doorway to Alexandra's room. He'd been up here with Wilson and Foreman all night long, waiting for Allie to get out of surgery. I lightly placed my hand on Chase's shoulder as I approached the room - he nodded, surprised, but realizing it was my own way of thanking him for everything he'd done. I left them all at the doorway and moved into the room, shutting the glass door behind me as I did so.

I stood with my back to her, trying to brace myself. How was I going to turn around and face a child who looked so much like Allison, and tell her that her mother was dead? I closed my eyes, ready to turn around and wake her up.

"She's gone, isn't she?"

I turned around to face the weak voice that had come from the bed.

I tried to remain expressionless as I stared at my battered and bruised little girl, now missing a leg - but found her staring directly at me with much more bravado than I have ever been able to muster, all the years of my life.

I walked closer and sat down on the edge of the bed, and listened as she repeated the same question.

I nodded, watching as tears slowly found their way down her cheeks.

"I acted like a jerk and pushed her away...the entire time she never stopped caring about me. I treated her so badly - yet she gave her life for me. No...she gave her life for US."

All it took were those words to bring down the walls. Not caring if the entire ICU staff, Foreman, Chase or Wilson witnessed it - I broke down. I cried openly with my daughter right there in her hospital room for the very first time.

Allie cried for the mother she'd pushed away, and I cried for the person who'd given me the most happiness I'd ever known. We both cried for the one we'd never see again.

* * *

One month later we gathered to bury Allison's ashes and say goodbye to the woman we'd all loved.

Hundreds of people had shown up to the church for the service. It was the same church Allison and I had joined hands in marriage, and it would now become the church I said goodbye to her in. Former patients, friends, family and almost the entire hospital staff had shown up this morning - all here to pay respects to a woman who'd never faltered in her kindness. I glanced to the back of the church and felt a small surge of happiness, knowing Allison was loved by so many - people packed the pews and congregated through the door, out the entryway and down the steps to the church entrance.

In front of us all, lay a white casket bearing the ashes of Allison Cameron-House. A beautiful arrangement of pale pink and white roses adorned the top, blossoming around a single framed photograph. A photo of Allison in her lab coat, leaning against the office door - smiling.

xxx

An hour later, a much smaller group gathered at the grave sight, before the casket. Allison's parents had chosen to go ahead to the reception, their aging bodies not permitting a walk through the hilly cemetery to their daughter's final resting place.

Foreman, Chase, Cuddy and Wilson stood back a short distance, leaving myself and Alexandra to stand before Allison.

Allie remained dry eyed, now standing tall upon the prosthetic leg she'd just started using - completely silent. At fourteen she'd already gone through more than I'd wish for anybody to experience in life. A kidnapping, traumatic return to us, another kidnapping, losing her leg...losing her mother. Her road was not over either. The kidney damage she'd acquired from the sepsis had been quite significant. She had a future full of dialysis ahead of her, ultimately leading up to a kidney transplant...considering a donor was found. She'd remained quite unspoken about everything - not mentioning that night in the hospital, not caring to discuss anything pertaining to her health. She spent the days in a sickening silence…she had changed, and it scared everyone.

We waited to bury Allison till Allie was upright and on her feet ... so she could say goodbye. I looked again at my daughter,a melancholy look upon her face as she looked everywhere,taking interest in everything but the coffin lyingdirectly in front of her- she was a stronger person than I'd ever be...I hope she'd one day be able to find peace with her past.

"_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust_," spoke the minister Allison's very religious parents had insisted on having present.

Cuddy started crying and walked away from the gravesight. Wilson nodded at me and went off to console her, Chase and Foreman following right behind.

As the minister left to give us a few moments alone, my daughter took a few unsteady steps towards her mother. Shepulled two roses off the top of the casket arrangement and stuck them into her purse...carefully moving a few feet back from me, starting to walk away.

I moved closer to the casket and ran my hand along the shiny white surface.

_"I was wrong. You just couldn't love me…"_

"Everybody lies, Allison. I hope you realized that," I said quietly to the casket, "I've always loved you... I always will."

I was going to run my hand once more along the surface, when a small hand caught mine. I turned and looked directly in the bright blue eyes of my daughter. She tightened her hand around mine and gave me a sad smile.

"Come on dad...let's go **home**."

THE END

* * *

Epilogue to follow!


	17. Epilogue: Allie & Allison

**A/N:** This is it! First of all, I just want to say thank you to all of my readers and the people who have taken the time to actually review this story. The awesome feedback I've gotten has kept me going with the writing, and actually made me want to write more! I'm not a big fanfic writer, but really enjoyed writing out this whole saga. You know it came to me in a dream one night, after watching House and the movie "The Deep End of the Ocean?" Seriously though, THANK YOU - you guys know who you are.

I'm not sure when my next fanfic piece will come, but I'll definiately write more in this fandom should I get some more ideas. But now? It's time to make last minute preparations, then I'm off to vacation in Lake Tahoe. THANK YOU! 3 3

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**Ch 17 - Epilogue**

I've realized that it's completely pointless to ask why she did it.

Uncle Jimmy once told me the real Allison had disappeared eight years ago, when I was brought to live with David and Marie. He said she'd gone from hopeful, to sad to downright depressed in a matter of months which led to her first attempt at suicide. Even after my return, she wasn't the same. Never seeking help for what she'd gone through, all the life in her had disappeared. She put on that fake happy routine and tried to act happy, but it was still there - the depression - lurking in the shadows...just waiting to reappear. When Vogler took me that day at school, it had been the breaking point. I assume she wasn't thinking very clearly the day she burst into the warehouse. All I know is - she saved my life...

* * *

I woke up in a drug induced haze the morning after "the incident."

Events from the previous afternoon were scattered through my head like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle - begging to be put together. The hideous cracking sound and immense pain as Vogler stepped down on my injured leg, waking up briefly to see faint visions of my Uncles Chase, Eric and Jimmy standing over me, the debilitating dizziness, my father sitting next to me, a brief vision of my mother, gunshots, the princeton-plainsboro emergency room, the feeling of morphine entering your veins - just unbroken pieces.

The most vivid dream though, was that of my mother.

I vaguely remember lying on an operating room table and then darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the same tunnel I had visited months ago during my first accident. At the end of the tunnel, a bright white light shone brightly - it's mere presence comforting. At the other end of the tunnel, darkness and the sound of beeping monitors. Around me, people were walking through the tunnel towards the white light - some turning around and walking towards the darkness. I began my walk towards the light and ran smack into somebody. This person grabbed my hand and looked up at me - it was my mother, smiling.

"Don't be afraid Allie," she said, "I'll be okay. I won't be around anymore, but I'll always be with you."

"Mom," I said, "No..."

"Take care of your father," she continued, "Don't let him blame himself. I know he's not the best at showing his feelings, but don't push him - let him come to you. Most of all, please tell him that I love him and have since the day he found me crying over that centrifuge."

I nodded.

"I know you'll be alright. You always were just like your father, I know you'll find a way to overcome what life will be throwing at you the next couple of weeks. You've got a lot of people on your side, and they'll be there for you. I did this so you could have a chance at a future Allie - you deserve it." she finished.

I just stood there staring at her, till she reached over and gave me a hug.

"I love you," she said one last time before running towards the light.

I screamed her name, but was sucked back towards the darkness.

* * *

I awoke in the intensive care unit moments later.

I hurt in about a million places, but it never registered to me what was missing.

My Uncle Chase entered the room at that moment, and walked towards the bed to take my vitals. It was seconds later that I realized my leg was missing.

Even worse than the feeling of horror that was slowly creeping in, was the feeling that my leg was STILL THERE.

If Vogler wasn't already dead...as soon as I got out of here I'd kill him myself, I remember thinking to myself.

"Uncle Chase," I started.

He was looking at me, waiting for me to finish the sentence.

"Where's my mom?" I asked him softly.

He sighed and dodged around the question by asking me how I was feeling.

A moment later my dad appeared at the doorway. The look on his face told me all I needed to know.

* * *

We never talked about the rest of that night.

He lied next to me on my hospital bed and we cried. It was strange, seeing that much emotion coming from my father that wasn't anger or sarcasm. I woke up hours later, and he was gone. Remembering what my mother had said, I wasn't upset that he had disappeared, I knew he needed his space.

The weeks that followed were to be some of the most memorable weeks in my entire life.

I slowly recovered from all the other minor injuries I had suffered and concentrated souly on one thing - learning to walk again.

* * *

The first time I laid eyes on my new fake leg, I was completely disgusted.

I sat in the physical therapy room, wearing it and completely unwilling to get up and walk with a walker...of all things. Uncle Eric called it the "House Pride" disease, telling me he was surprised it took so long to show up. I looked at him with a glare and told him to piss off, I wasn't going to walk with a walker - I was going to stay in my bedroom for the rest of my life, not be seen with this peg leg. He sighed and left for a few moments.

I don't know why I was being so stubborn. I didn't know what I was suppose to be feeling. My mother is dead, my father is never here because he's afraid to face me, Uncle Jimmy won't stop being so fucking supportive and NICE... I found it easier to shove away all of those thoughts with defensive tactics.

"Alexandra Anne House, get your ass out of that chair"

I turned and found myself face to face with my father. His eyes stared down into mine, challenging me to do otherwise.

"Like you care," I said.

He sighed loudly, the next movement shocking the hell out of me.

He pitched his cane as hard as he could, across the room (and into a very expensive looking piece of gym equipment, causing it to give a loud electronic groan - my Aunt Lisa was going to kill him...) and stood up. He held his hand out to me.

If I hadn't of been laced with so many drugs at the moment, I probably would have cried. He stood next to me and limped along as I took my first few steps on my new leg - I assume, realizing exactly how I was feeling at the current moment.

I sat down in my wheelchair, exhausted, a few minutes later. He just looked at me and grinned.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"I'm not the only one with a gimp anymore! It'll be cool - the cripple brigade of princeton-plainsboro! Killing happiness with sarcasm anywhere we go!"

I took one look at him and smiled.

He was going to say something, but my Aunt Lisa entered the room at that very moment.

I laughed quietly and wheeled myself out of the room, to the shouts of my Aunt Lisa and the exact prices it took to replace a gym treadmill.

* * *

We buried my mother's ashes two days after I was released from the hospital.

Aided by a cane, I stood next to my father as the minister spoke the last words of the graveside service.

It was heartbreaking to watch my father run his hand down my mother's coffin, speaking quiet words that only he could hear.

_"Take care of your father Allie"_

I would do just that.

I spent so much time after my first return to my parents, worrying about what I was going to do with my life...the past. I realize now though, that I needed to put the past aside and move forward. Concentrate on my future - the future that my mother had given me. A future I'd have the rest of my life to figure out.

I walked a few steps closer to my father and grabbed his hand. Hand in hand, we walked through the graveyard towards the future. What it held was uncertain, but whatever it was - at least we would get the chance to face it...together.

xxx

* * *

**PRESENT DAY**

I sighed and looked again at my watch.

For the past three hours, I'd been toiling away in my least favorite place in the world, waiting for him to save me. Instead of doing my job, I'd been working on my manuscript - it was only time before someone would catch on that I wasn't doing my job.

Deciding to clear up the remaining paperwork and hide, I suddenly felt a pair of hands close themselves around my eyes.

"Hey beautiful, it's time to go, they're almost done!"

I turned around to meet the eyes of my fiancé, Dr. Anthony Chase.

"Not in public, I've got a hard-ass reputation to uphold!" I said, though I allowed him to place a small kiss on my lips.

I smiled and let him hold my hand as we walked through the hallway to the elevator. He was after all, the "man of my dreams" - as my friends put it.

I couldn't believe that in three short weeks, I would be marrying Anthony. My Uncle Chase's eyes had bugged out the night I told him his oldest son and I would be getting married. We'd known each other almost all of our lives - Uncle Chase had adopted him from Australia shortly after my mother's funeral. One year on me, we became fast friends. "Inseparable" was the word my father used, slightly annoyed that I would become daughter in law to the "crazy wombat's offspring."

My father was now seventy three years old and going strong.

Though he spent most of his time in a wheelchair, he had been very insistent on walking me down the aisle. He said it was the last thing he wanted to do for his daughter, before she went off to start her own life. As if he'd need to give me any more. He has stood by my side through it all - the whole childhood ordeal, losing my leg, a year of dialysis, a kidney transplant - his mere presence was enough for me.

Getting off on the fourth floor, Anthony and I made our way down the corridor.

Waiting right in front of the conference room and office, was my dad in his wheelchair, my Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Lisa (they married the summer I turned 16), and my Uncle Chase. My Uncle Eric had wanted to be here, but couldn't fly in from New York due to work. A man had his back to the glass door, working away.

I let go of Anthony's hand, and gave him a kiss. I ignored the look of disgust on my dad's face, instead choosing to laugh.

The voice of the workman at the door broke our laughter. "All finished," he said, picking up a small workbag and walking off down the hallway.

Surrounded by the people I cared the most about for this exact moment, meant the world to me. I smiled at all of them, then looked in triumph at the newly finished office door:

**Alexandra House, M.D.**

**department of diagnostic medicine**

xxx

* * *

_

* * *

I'm at peace here - wherever here is._

_Time passes quickly here...years go by in the blink of an eye. I spend my days in peace, knowing I'll see them again one day. Until then, I can simply watch - watch as they go on with their lives._

_I've watched my daughter grow up from little girl. I watched on the day she graduated high school, the day she graduated college, the day she finished medical school and the day she finished her residency and became the youngest department head at Princeton-Plainsboro. The little girl I worried so much about - worry that she would never find her place - thrived. I watched House as he stood by her side during everything - becoming a completely different person as the years went on...much more willing to show his feelings. Though he visited my grave nearly every day, he didn't let what happened overpower him - he moved on. He became the father he always worried he couldn't be, and I was proud of him - proud of both of them. Proud to know I gave them the chance to actually move forward._

_I never ask myself if I regret what I did. _

_I'm watching them right now. I smile to myself as I watch my daughter hug her family, then straighten her lab coat. House laughs at her and tells her she doesn't NEED to wear one. She just looks at him in the same amused way I used to. She kisses her fiancé goodbye and walks into the office - now her own. I watch as she takes off her lab coat, tossing it over the back of her desk chair. She walks to her cd player and grabs a pair of headphones, selecting a track by the Clash and putting them on her head. She gingerly eases herself onto the ground, lies flat on her back and props her legs up on the desk. _

_I laugh to myself - it must be genetic. _

_My little girl listens to the music, playing the imaginary drums in the air for a few moments before stopping. She looks around the office, looks at her newly inscribed office door, and sighs. She then looks out the window, up into the clouds and smiles._

_No...I don't regret it at all._

**_-FIN_**


End file.
